Don't Shoot Me I'm Only the Piano Player
by QTR
Summary: Grissom told Sara to get a diversion. The night shift soon discovers she is a performer in one of the night clubs along the Strip... and Warrick's going to do a lot more than shoot the piano player if he gets his hands on him. WS. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Midnight Creeper

**Title: Don't Shoot Me; I'm Only the Piano Player**

**Rating: T (rating may change)**

**Summary: Grissom told Sara to get a diversion. One member of the night shift soon discovers she is a performer at one of the Vegas Strip night clubs. But...is her partner a bit... too-friendly?**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters! I don't own CSI: or the song Always On Your Side by Sheryl Crow. I also don't own the rights to the title of this story, as that is the title of an Elton John album.**

**Author's Notes: This is a story I'm very excited to write! I was very ecstatic when this idea came to me, so I'm hoping I can do a good job with this story! This is going to be another Warrick/Sara fic. I hope you guys enjoy it! By the way, this fic takes place after Too Tough to Die :) Warrick will most-likely appear in the next chapter.**

"**_Sara... do you have any diversions...?"_**

He said to get a diversion, but those words were foreign to Sara Sidle's ears. She actually wasn't sure those words had ever been directed at her before in her life. Diversion... what did that word even mean? Something outside of work, outside of law enforcement, Grissom had said. What else _did_ Sara have besides her work? Her work _was _her diversion, her escape- her work was her release... her work was her life. Doing anything else, or slowing down in her work was absolutely terrifying to her…

…Which was perhaps the main reason she needed a diversion.

Sara had never really ever explored her creative of 'fun' side; she never had time to. Sara was not a mother like Catherine, so she didn't have a child waiting for her to come home every night and tuck them into bed. She wasn't Grissom, and so she didn't get an adrenaline rush from riding roller coasters. Sara was not like Warrick, so she didn't like going to casinos to play the slots or a few card games to help take the edge off. And she definitely was not like Greg or Nick, so she didn't find playing Playstation or Gamecube all that appealing.

So what did Sara like? Grissom made it sound like that would be a good place to start. Sara liked lots of things- she liked helping people and the feeling she got when the bad guys were put away, she liked listening to her scanner when she went home every night to catch up on what was going on, and she liked reading crime novels to see what was and what was not accurate. But outside of law enforcement and work? Well, Sara wasn't so sure about that. She was really going to have to think about that one.

Things Sara liked to do that didn't have to do with work... that was a tough question. She liked to sing... but that was more of a habit than a hobby. Besides, she didn't think she was that good anyways, let alone good enough for her voice to take her anywhere. But...singing was the only thing Sara could really think of for something she liked to do outside of work and law enforcement; it certainly did help to take the edge off of a hard day at work. Some notes were harder to hit than others, others easier. The sounds varied from soft to loud, peaceful to powerful in just moments, and she liked that. It was a good way to relieve stress- if she was in a bad mood- perhaps she was angry- she would sing a song that required a large amount of vocal.

Sara sighed to herself, running a hand through her hair as she sat in the front seat of her car in the parking lot at the lab. She still thought her voice was like nails on a chalkboard- perhaps even worse-, but...it was the only thing she could think of. Grissom said if she didn't find something to like... she was going to burn-out, and that alone was motivation to find a hobby or something to be interested in. If she burned-out... then what would she do, where would she go? What would she do as a release to escape herself? She figured she'd barely be able to function properly in the world anymore. She'd be useless... and Sara didn't like feeling useless. She liked feeling needed.

So she was going to take this chance and try to do something with her singing. She could just sing along to songs in the car or at home as she always did, she thought, but… that wouldn't really be a diversion, would it? At home she had her scanner, pager and cell phone… not to mention the almost endless collection of forensic textbooks and crime novels she kept in her bookcase. Maybe she could find a club or bar somewhere on the Strip looking for performers and audition there. She didn't want to run the risk of humiliating herself in front of a bunch of people, but… she didn't want to burn out. So she was going to take this risk, whether she wanted to or not.

A part of Sara actually wondered if she was going to get this diversion just so she could look at Grissom and say, "I told you so!" She wondered if she was going to get this diversion just so she could prove to him that she wasn't just the boring workaholic that ordered from catalogues to give herself something to look forward to- that she had a life outside of her work. Despite her reasons, Sara had her mind set on this now and she wasn't going to stop until she found what she was looking for. To Sara now if were if she were searching for the lost treasure of Atlantis.

Putting the car in park, Sara pulled out into the street and began to cruise down the Strip, looking around for any signs or flyers in windows or telephone poles. She saw something for a wrestling match… no, she wasn't built for wrestling and that wasn't what she was looking for anyways. Driving along, Sara continued to keep her eyes peeled. The Tangiers was looking for a dancer… no, she wasn't a dancer- that would be a job for Catherine since she had experience in that field. There was a poker tournament… a park picnic coming up (Sara wondered if Vegas actually had parks), and then an ad for a restaurant that just opened up.

Sara's search was coming up empty. But she had to keep looking! She had to keep trying; she wasn't going to stop now- she couldn't. Shift ended early that night so she had plenty of time, and she didn't want to go get something to eat because if she did she wouldn't be able to enjoy it with this burden hanging over her shoulders.

_You've got to keep trying, _Sara kept telling herself. _Keep looking; you don't want to end up working at a McDonald's for the rest of your life because you burned out, do you?_ The thought of serving people cold patties that had been sitting on the grill for hours before they ordered it made her cringe; the smell of French fry oil was making her shudder. She had to keep looking.

While day-dreaming about the horrors of working at a fast-food restaurant chain, Sara failed to notice where she was going, or if any bystanders were in front of her for that matter. Driving along she immediately stopped when someone screamed at her.

"Hey! I'm walking here! Watch where you're going, you idiot!" a man- a rather horrible-looking man with five o'clock (actually more like ten o'clock…) shadow and messy oily hair- said, slamming his palms on the hood of her car. That got Sara's attention and she waited to make sure he made it across the street before she started moving again.

_Smooth,_ she thought to herself. Almost hitting a bystander because she wasn't paying attention to where she was going in her haste to find a diversion told her she was desperate.

But then Sara saw something… that man who she almost hit had been a gift from god. Just as she stopped she saw a paper on one of the telephone poles with an ad for one of the night clubs on the Strip. Sara reached over the passenger's seat and tore it off the pole in order to reach it before she got back on the road and pulled over to read it.

The club was called Midnight. Sara had heard of it, but she wasn't one to go around to Vegas clubs and bars on her nights off so she had never actually known anything about it, other than that it opened a few years ago. If it was still open that meant that it was probably getting pretty good business. Looking down at the paper, Sara reached into the glove compartment and took out her mini mag-lite- something she always kept in her car incase of emergency- to better read the paper in the dark of the night.

_Wanted: Performers for Midnight Night Club_

Sara felt the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach again- this could be it.

_Must be at least 18 years of age to apply._

That wasn't going to be a problem for Sara.

_Will hire: Dancers, stand-up comics, magicians, singers…_

That was all Sara needed to see- if she could make the cut for this place she would have her diversion.

Looking down at herself, she frowned- brown slacks, mahogany sweatshirt, flat shoes. She didn't exactly look the part that was for sure. She had just gotten off shift not too long ago, so she didn't stop at her apartment to change clothes or get all dolled-up. She didn't really think it would matter, though, because it _was_ just an audition, after all… if some crazy person inside that building actually liked her voice she didn't think what she looked like was going to matter much to anyone. She didn't really have anything all that dressy anyways, so she decided just to go as she was and get it over with.

Putting the car back in drive, Sara pulled back out and headed off to the club.

The Midnight Night Club had been a regular destination for drifters, tourists, and Vegas residents for almost five years now. It was open from midnight to five in the morning- hence the name- seven days a week. The outside of the building left a lot to be desired- the building looked old and run-down; the stucco was beginning to get an ugly grey color to it with tarnished the light orange color the place was _supposed _to be. It had a large sign over the door that clashed with the orange stucco of the building with navy blue neon lights that flashed that read 'Midnight' in large writing, and underneath 'Night Club'.

Sara pulled up in front of the building, looking at the clock- it was about 12:45 now, so the place was open, she knew by looking at the hours of business sign outside right next to the 'no loitering' sign probably purchased at a hardware or drug store. Pulling down her visor above her, Sara looked at herself in the mirror one last time, smoothing down stray strands of rebelling hair. Reaching behind her seat, she grabbed her bag and looked around- a few make-up touch-ups wouldn't do much harm, would they?

Sara never went overboard with her make-up, so she kept only a small quantity on her person for small touch-ups. Usually she only wore a dash of lip-gloss and some eye shadow and she was done, so that made it easy to find when she actually chose to do touch-ups. Looking at herself in the mirror, Sara quickly applied a color of eye shadow she felt drew attention to her eyes (if they were drawn to her eyes, they wouldn't really be staring at the rest of her body which was what she was aiming for), and put on a light color of lip-gloss before putting everything away and putting the visor up.

Unlocking her door, Sara stepped out and closed the door, locking the car up. Smoothing out the sides of her sweater, she took a deep breath, looking down at her feet. She felt so nervous, like she did the first time she went in for a job interview. But she shouldn't feel nervous, she thought, because that would make her audition mean nothing if she was nervously fidgeting or rambling whilst she were doing it. She had to be smooth, confident- that meant no insistent hair-flipping, no nervous biting of the nails, and no playing with loose threads on her clothing. She had to be perfect and straight-forward; the way she was with murder suspects in the interrogation room.

Composing herself, Sara put both arms to her sides as she approached the building. Pushing the door open with her elbow, she was surprised at what she discovered in the building. For a night club on the Strip she was expecting strippers and loud music blaring through the speakers. This place actually looked rather nice- the flooring was a nice deep red color; the carpet almost looked like velvet. The walls were a nice calming cream color and they were covered in photographs of the Strip and various performers. To her left was an oak-finished bar with about ten stools pulled up, four of which were occupied by customers. The bartender looked like a fairly decent person, too, and to her surprise greeted her with a kind smile.

"Welcome to the Midnight, Miss," he told her, currently drying a glass with a white towel. "Can I get you something to drink- Bacardi and coke, or maybe a cold beer, perhaps?"

As appetizing as that sounded, Sara had a job, no a mission, to accomplish. "No thanks," she told the man, reluctantly turning down his offer. "I'm looking for the owner, actually," she said, reaching into her pocket for the flyer she had gotten off of the telephone pole. "I was interested in auditioning here to be a performer," she explained, showing him the flyer.

The bartender smiled, nodding down at the paper in understanding. "I'll get him for you, please have a seat while you wait and make yourself comfortable," he told her, motioning toward one of the barstools as he walked out from behind the bar Sara thought he probably spent most of his hours behind and headed toward the back of the building.

Sara nodded and sat down as he suggested, taking another look around the building; signs for Budlight, Corona, Samuel Adams, Heineken and other imported beers. The bar area looked rather nice with the arrangement they had chosen, however, and it didn't look like a sloppy bar where drunks came to wash their worries away beer after beer.

In moments the bartender was walking back toward the bar with a man trailing behind him who Sara assumed to be the owner and manager of the building. He was an older-looking man with graying hair and round glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. Sara didn't think he looked like someone who would own a night club on the Vegas Strip, but then again she thought maybe he was the reason this place looked so nice and decent inside. She figured that a younger manager would've made this place into a regular strip club just like anywhere else.

"Yes… how can I help you, Miss?" the older man asked, taking off his glasses to wipe them off with his shirt.

"Hi…" Sara said, getting off of the stool, suddenly feeling much more nervous than she previously had. "My name's Sara Sidle, I'm here about the auditions for performers?" she said, handing him the flyer she had showed to the bartender.

The man looked like he had never seen the flyer before in his life, which struck Sara as odd seeing how he was the manager after all. He squinted at it and held it closer to his face to try and read it. "Auditions, eh?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir," Sara replied.

"Oh! That's what he was talking about!" the old man said. Sara raised a brow in curiosity. "I may be the manager, honey, but I'm not the manager of our performers and entertainment," he told her, handing her back the flyer. "That's Trey's job, he's in charge of all that stuff," he explained.

"Where can I find Trey?" Sara asked, beginning to get impatient. Old age or not, this guy wasn't giving her the information he should know to give her.

"Someone said my name?" Sara turned around to see a man about her age, if not a little older or younger. He had clean-cut dark brown hair and dark, glistening green eyes. He was clean-shaven and the first few buttons were undone on his shirt, revealing his hairless chest. He had a nice building and Sara could see his muscles through his clothes. She almost focused on his body more than the possibility that this man could be the person she was looking for. "How can I help you?" he then asked, looking at Sara.

"…Trey?" Sara asked, mentally cursing as the old man hadn't given her his last name. She felt it was rude that she barely knew the man and she was calling him by his first name, it was like a student calling their teacher by their first name.

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "Trey Wolfe," he said. "And you are…?"

"Sara," she immediately replied. Shaking her head, she said, "I, I, mean… my name's Sara Sidle- First name Sara, last name Sidle."

"Well, okay First Name Sara, Last Name Sidle," he said with a grin. "How can I help you?"

"I, uh…" Sara stuttered- so much for not being nervous. "Uh…"

"She saw one of them… dern flyers you put up," the old man butted in. "Son, you've gotta tell me when you put them stuff up. Customers 'er confusin' me."

"Sure," Trey said, looking over at the older man. "Sara…" he then said, turning to look at her. "Why don't we go somewhere a little quieter? My office is just in the back," he said, motioning toward the back of the building with his thumb.

"Sure," Sara said, nodding a little as she allowed him to lead her toward the back. _Thank god he got me away from that old man; I was beginning to think about punching him in the face._

"Have a seat," Trey said once they were in his office. It was a rather large room with more pictures of performers- probably the ones he recommended and/or hired- framed on his walls and desk. Sara nodded and took a seat in one of the red leather chairs across from him. "So Sara…" he said, leaning back in his chair. "You're here to audition."

Sara nodded. "I saw the flyer and thought I'd give it a shot."

Trey just nodded, looking at her for a minute. Sara didn't exactly know what he was looking for in his gaze, but he stared at her for some time, remaining absolutely silent. She hated silence like this; this was usually the time in the job interview where the man would say 'We'll keep in touch', which really meant 'You just screwed this up big time'. "You're really pretty, you know that?" he asked.

Sara laughed a little, taken aback as it was the last thing she was expecting him to say to her. "Thanks…" she said, trying to hide the redness that was flushing her cheeks.

He just nodded, biting a pen in his mouth as he thought. "So what do you want to do here as a performer? Dance, sing?" he asked.

"Sing, actually," Sara told him. "I don't know if I'm much of a singer, but…"

"Nonsense," he told her, shaking his head in disbelief. "Sing something. Come on, right now, sing something."

"Oh, I…" Sara immediately felt her stomach drop. She knew she was going to have to sing eventually, but…

"Come on, don't be shy," he told her. "I'm sure you have a beautiful voice. I can even put the radio on and you can sing along," he told her, reaching over and flipping a switch on his radio, turning the volume knob. "Ah, Sheryl Crow," he said, listening to the song fill the room through the speakers. "Anyone can sing along to Sheryl Crow. Go ahead and try," he told her, motioning with his hand for her to start.

_This is it, Sara, you can do this,_ Sara told herself. It wasn't like she had never sung along to Sheryl Crow before; this was going to be easy! And actually, she had sung along to this very song. _Go for it._

"My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away…" Sara sang along to the first verse. "But every now and then you come to mind…

'Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game

But when your name was called, you found a place to hide

When you knew that I was always on your side…"

"Stop right there," Trey said.

_Oh shit, you blew it, Sara!_ She told herself, starting to panic. _Let me do another song! I…I had something in my throat! That's what it was! That's not my real singing voice!_

Trey looked over at her, his face hard to read. Sara could normally read what people were thinking or feeling by the look in their eyes, but at the moment she could not do so. "…That was…" Trey started.

_Horrible, I know! Dreadful, nails on a chalkboard, torture—_

"Amazing," he finished.

_Embarrassing—wait… what?_ Sara thought, blinking. "…What?"

"That was absolutely amazing," he told her, shooting her a smile. "I think you'll fit in just fine."

"…I…you…really?" Sara asked in disbelief.

"Of course!" Trey said. "And coincidentally I'm not only the manager of this stuff… I'm the musician," he grinned. "I play the piano, so you'll be up on stage with me," he told her. "I hope you don't mind that too, too much," he smiled.

"I… of course not!" Sara said. "I'd… be honored…"

"Good," he smiled, "Then you're hired! When is it convenient for you to come in?"

"Well…" Sara said. "I work the night shift…so…" she thought aloud. "Maybe… Friday nights?" she asked. "I can come in whenever." _I have enough personal time._

"Sure, that would be wonderful," he told her. "So let me show you around a little and help you get used to the place," he said, getting up from his seat and walking over to the door. Sara got up, silently cheering in victory as he led her out the door. "So…" he said, walking down a long hallway made by a long red velvety curtain hanging from the ceiling. "This is the stage," he told her, walking up a few steps. "Come on up!" he encouraged her.

Sara nodded slowly and made her way up the stairs, stopping right next to him. "It's so… big," Sara said, unable to think of anything else to use to describe it.

"Isn't it, though?" he asked, walking over to one of the sides of the stage and pulling on a gold-colored tassel. Slowly the curtains parted to reveal rows of tables and chairs for the audience, which, at this time, was not present. "You're going to be up here," he told her, walking over to her.

"…Wow," Sara said, still not really believing her eyes. The building looked so… small from the outside!

"Yeah, it really is something," he sighed, slowly moving closer to her. "You'll have to wear something a little more… stage-worthy, of course," he smiled.

Sara laughed. "I just wore these from work."

"So I gathered," he smiled, "But you have such a nice body…" he mused, putting both of his hands on her shoulders. "You're so tall, and you have such nice legs… wouldn't you like to show them off?" he asked, his hands slowly moving downwards, traveling down her arms. "A dress, perhaps, that showed off your arms…" he suggested.

Sara was now starting to feel uncomfortable. She didn't exactly like where this guy's hands were going… but maybe he was just trying to help? If he was trying to help, he wasn't. Sara didn't like getting touched. She almost let out a squeak at what he did next.

"And your stomach is so flat," he told her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and slowly drawing her toward him. "You wouldn't have to worry about weight, that's not an issue for you…" he mumbled, his hands slowly traveling up…

"Y-You know what, I really need to go," Sara said, quickly breaking out of his grasp. "I… I'm sorry, it's late, I need to go…" she repeated, resisting the urge to shake like a shaggy dog after a bath. "I have work early tomorrow, and… gosh, it's almost 3:00 am!" Sara said, laughing weakly as she peeked at her watch on her wrist.

"Okay," he shrugged. "I'll see you on Friday!"

"…Right! Friday…" Sara said. "…Goodbye!" she added, almost running off of the stage toward the door of the building. She didn't care about anything or anyone else at that moment, she wanted… something. A shower, to get rained on, heck she would've even settled for being splashed by a taxi!

"Congratulations," the bartender said as she made her way to the door. "I suppose I'll be seeing more of you!"

"…Yeah!" Sara said. "Uh… goodnight!"

"Goodnight!" the bartender said, but Sara was already out of the building.

Sara ran to her car, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, rubbing her arms with her hands as if to warm herself up.

_Don't shoot him, Sara,_ she told herself, _he's only the piano player._


	2. I'm Going To Be A Teenage Idol

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! This story is on two people's favorites lists; wow! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying the story so far. This is the chapter where Warrick appears!**

Fridays were usually the days that employees working places looked forward to the most; it meant that they usually got the weekend to themselves. No paper-pushing, no walking through crowded buildings to get the latest fax to the boss, no worrying about trying to stay alert with the latest memos thrown around the building- the weekends were peaceful days for these hardworking citizens. For the members of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, that wasn't entirely true. Crime didn't suddenly stop on Saturdays and Sundays to give the members of law enforcement some time to themselves to rest up and get back to their own lives.

But the possibility of not having the weekend off was the least of Sara Sidle's worries at the moment. Friday was the day she had told Trey at the Midnight Night Club that she would be coming in to perform. The performance was also one of the least of her worries; she was more worried about what would happen during the performance. All she could think about was how uncomfortable she felt when he touched her, telling how nice a body she had. She couldn't stop thinking about the possible places his hands _could've_ gone if she hadn't stopped him when she had.

She told herself not to go pointing fingers, however, because for as far as she knew he could just be one of those touchy-feely people, also known as the people you meet for the first time that go in for the infamous greeting known as 'the hug' instead of settling for a friendly handshake. Trey seemed like a nice guy, and he really could've just been trying to give her advice, she knew. He didn't seem like one of the creeps she had met while working her job that turned out to be convicted sex offenders in six different states, he seemed like a normal, successful man.

So Sara decided not to make a big deal over it. She didn't want to ruin the relationship she had with him (which was purely professional in all aspects), seeing how he _had_ gotten her the job. If she said or did something that gave off a bad vibe from herself to him, she could be out the door in seconds without a diversion and she would be right back where she started. She didn't want that to happen; it was hard enough finding a place looking for performers the first time and she didn't want to have to do it again.

So after staying up for about three hours pondering this in her head the night before, Sara was sound asleep under a clump of blankets and pillows in the center of her bed at her apartment. She stirred just a little, waking up momentarily. She immediately regretted this; she _always_ did this. She always woke up before her alarm clock went off which just made how exhausted she was ten times more apparent than the first time she cracked an eye open. She buried her head under a pillow, trying to muffle out the noises of the morning and fall back to sleep like a stubborn teenager who had to get up for school.

And as if on cue- as if Sara was given just the right amount of time to burrow back in her little hole like a small rodent- her alarm clock clicked on and the annoying sound of a cheerful-sounding radio-show host filled throughout her apartment. She didn't know how loud the volume on her alarm clock was set, but all the layers of blankets and pillows in the world wouldn't have been able to block out the sound entirely.

"Welcome to 97.7 AM radio!" Sara heard the man saying. She wondered how he could sound so cheery at 6:30 in the morning; she was enthusiastic about her work, yes, but even she wasn't as alert and excited until she had her first cup of coffee in the morning and had been up for about an hour or so. "It's currently 6:31 am on Friday, July 18—"

Sara groaned, turning her back to face the alarm clock in defiance. She almost felt like saying, "Five more minutes", but this guy was persistent and obviously had been at his job for awhile. He was good at being loud and obnoxious.

"Wake up and smell the coffee, sleepy-heads! It's a beautiful day outside with possible highs of 98 and 101 in Henderson and Las Vegas!"

Whoop-tee-do- that _surely_ made Sara want to get up.

"We're going to be playing all the greatest hits of the 90's today, so get up and keep your radio tuned to 97.7!"

"Shut up…" Sara mumbled, finally sitting up and slamming her palm down on the alarm clock snooze button. Throwing pillows away from her so she could get up out of her little pillow-and-blanket fort, Sara yawned and raised her arms high above her head in attempt to wake herself up. Throwing the sheets off of herself she got up and headed toward the bathroom for a shower.

After showering, getting dressed and fixing her hair to make herself presentable, Sara grabbed her things and headed out the door, closing and locking it behind her. Reaching into her pocket, Sara got out her car keys and unlocked her car, getting inside and starting it up. Turning on the radio as she backed out of the parking lot (and making sure she did _not_ in fact tune into 97.7 AM radio), Sara started humming along to Michelle Branch, which ultimately brought her train of thought back to where it was at 3:00 am that morning.

She had already settled on the fact that it was an accident and that Trey didn't mean anything bad about the way he touched her. He was just that type of person, it didn't mean he was dangerous, or… lecherous. It just meant that he was friendly, that was it. But try as she might, Sara could not shake the uncomfortable feeling she got in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought about it.

_You're obsessing over everything again,_ she told herself, _Stop over-analyzing everything. _She was just always weird this way about things like that; she always had been. She was just being careful, she told herself. One of her pet-peeves had always been being touched, and she barely knew Trey. Any physical contact with a person she didn't know very well other than talking or a handshake made her uncomfortable… so why just focus on Trey? There _was_ no reason to, she told herself. He was a nice, normal guy who gave her the way out of her black tunnel of doom leading to her burning-out.

But working her job, Sara had seen so many things like this that had quickly escalated to something more. A simple touch… an 'accident', had sometimes turned into severe molestation charges, or worse. She wasn't a victim, though, she told herself once more, she was just being paranoid. She was not a victim and Trey was not a threat to her or anyone else. He was her partner, he was the piano player.

Finally reaching the lab, Sara got out of her and closed the door after grabbing her bag, taking a deep breath. She told herself to think of something else; if she looked as serious as she did now that would look fishy to the other CSIs in the building, and they would be able to worm the story of what happened the other night out of her. Then Trey would get in trouble, she would lose her job… and that wasn't necessary…

…Because Trey wasn't a bad guy, and she wasn't a victim.

Walking through the double glass doors of the lab, Sara put a smile on her face as she headed to the break room. Now that she had gotten all her worries about her new job out of the way, she could think of the positive things about it. The rush she would get when she was on stage in front of a large crowd of people- or the sudden jerk in her stomach she would feel that would make her vomit all over the people sitting in the first row of the large crowd of people (Positive, Sara, stay positive)- that would make her feel great. The spotlight would be on her, everyone would be watching her, waiting to see what she would do. She liked that, as she had never really gotten that much attention in her lifetime outside of the workplace.

Walking into the locker room Sara turned the lock on the metal locker that belonged to her until it clicked off. Taking it off she opened the door and put her bag inside, looking at herself in the small mirror positioned on the door of her locker. She still sort of looked like she had just gotten up, but she knew she would have time to fix herself up later in the evening when she got home before she had to be at the Midnight.

Lost in her own little world, she failed to notice Warrick walk into the room before he made his entry in the room verbal. "Hey Sara," he greeted her, making her jump a little as he opened up his own locker.

"…Hey!" Sara said, finally noticing him being in the room.

Sara Sidle and Warrick Brown's relationship had been like a rollercoaster ride. Since Sara had been called in by Grissom to handle the internal investigation of the Holly Gribbs case, they had gotten off on a rough front. Sara and Warrick were not ones to take any crap from other people, and since they both had that same personality trait they clashed like light and dark clothes in the wash. Recently, however, they amended their friendship and learned to put aside their differences. Warrick realized that Sara wasn't out to get him; that she was only doing her job, and Sara realized that Warrick wasn't someone who didn't accept responsibility for his actions, that he was a sensitive person with his own personal demons like herself.

"You and I are working together today," Warrick said, hanging up his jacket on one of the coat hooks in his locker. Taking off his sunglasses, he handed her a small slip of paper containing the information about their assignment.

"…Drive-by shooting," Sara read off the slip of paper, nodding slowly. "Fun," she commented dryly, looking up at him with a grin.

"Yeah, well, day-shift is actually handling all the good stuff- we get to search through a clump of metal full of bullet holes for six hours," he told her.

Sara scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me."

Warrick just shook his head. "Maybe we can ask Greggo for one of his CDs so we at least have some white noise," he shrugged, closing up his locker.

"Sounds good to me," Sara smiled.

Warrick nodded, walking out with Sara by his side. "I'll go see what he has and I'll meet you in the garage."

"Deal."

Two hours into shift Sara and Warrick were still working on the broken-down, rusted, dirty, old, bullet-filled Pontiac that was still missing one wheel in silence. Sara was under the car on a dolly trying to get samples liquid that was dripping from under the car. Actually, she wasn't sure what _wasn't_ dripping; it was raining oil, gas and transmission fluid… and she didn't exactly have an umbrella.

"How's it going?" Warrick asked, wiping his hands off on an oil-stained rag.

"This car is a piece of crap…" Sara mumbled. "Radiator's cracked…" she commented, making a grunting noise as she tried to move something on the car's underside. "And…"

Warrick raised a brow, waiting for her to finish her thought. As Sara was about to speak Greg ran through the doorway, holding up a box full of CDs. "I have the music!" he said in a sing-song voice.

Sara rolled out from under the car, wiping off her forehead with her shirt sleeve. "What'd you got?"

"Metallica…" Greg said, looking through the box. "Led Zeppelin—"

"No thanks," Sara sighed, rolling back under the car.

"Hey! That's all good stuff!" Greg said, trying to convince her otherwise. "It's rock 'n roll history!" he sang loudly, walking off back to the DNA lab playing air-guitar.

"Well, we don't want to listen to people who should be prescribed medication of they're screaming so much in their songs!" Sara sang back, reaching a hand back out from under the car, feeling around for something.

"What are you looking for?" Warrick asked.

"Wrench, can you give it to me?" Sara asked.

"Sure," Warrick told her, handing her the wrench that her hand just missed. "Say, Sara…"

"Yeah?" Sara asked.

"Has anyone ever told you that you can sing pretty good…?"

At the sound of that, Sara immediately dropped the wrench to the ground, hearing it hit the floor of the garage with a loud clank. Rolling out from under the car, Sara looked over at him, still laying flat on the dolly as she grinned. "So I've been told, but personally I think otherwise," she said, getting to her feet and heading over to the sink to wash up.

"No, really!" Warrick said, following her over to the sink. "I'm serious, girl; you've got some pretty nice pipes," he told her, shooting her a small smile.

"…Well, thanks…" Sara said, unable to hide her grin as she washed her hands after disposing of her oil-stained gloves.

"Have you ever considered doing karaoke at one of the night clubs?" Warrick asked.

Sara just laughed. "Does getting a job at one of the night clubs as a singer count?"

Warrick's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You did?"

"Yup," Sara said, finding herself feeling a bit proud of her accomplishment. Warrick was looking on at her in awe, like she had just won some big award. It made her feel pretty good about herself.

"That's great, Sara," Warrick said, "Which club?"

"The Midnight," Sara answered, "I'm performing there tonight, actually," she told him, unzipping her blue CSI jumpsuit leaving her in her regular work clothes. Actually, for a minute, Sara had to stop and ask herself why she told Warrick she was performing there tonight- did she want him to come, or… was it just something she said off the top of her head? Sara didn't really even know Warrick as well as, well… Grissom, for example, but they were still friends, and… Sara felt oddly relaxed whenever she was around Warrick…

…and that would certainly help to ease her nerves while she was up on stage in front of a large crowd of people she had never seen before that were watching- waiting- for her to screw up and make a fool of herself. But Sara still ran the risk of making a fool out of herself in front of Warrick, one of her friends, so… she decided not to offer for him to come to her performance that night.

"Well that'll be fun," Warrick told her. "So are you getting off-shift now?"

"I better," Sara smiled, "I need to get this oil and stuff off of me before I go over there. I'm supposed to look stage-worthy," she said with a grin, throwing her scrubs on the table as she walked off.

"Okay, well… I'll see you later!" Warrick said.

"See you tomorrow, Warrick," Sara said, walking down the hallway to the locker room. After making a quick stop there and getting her jacket and bag, Sara walked toward the front doors of the lab. She found herself making a small stop in front of one particular room, however.

Looking into Grissom's office, she noted that he was currently away from his desk. Looking inside, she saw various test subjects in jars and a… she didn't know what, sitting on top of his desk proudly next to the little tablet that had his name. Unable to hide her grin, Sara poked her head inside and said, "Told you so."

Unbeknownst to Sara, Warrick left shortly after she did with one thought on his mind- surprising her. Driving toward his home, he had an uncontrollable smile on his face the entire time. He had noticed that Sara hadn't offered for him to come that night, which meant she wasn't expecting him to show up. Well, Warrick was going to surprise Sara and be in the middle of that crowd of people in the audience anyways. He had butterflies in his stomach; he felt like he was going to be throwing a surprise birthday party for someone.

Parking in the driveway of his home, Warrick got out of his car and jogged up to the front door, unlocking it and walking inside. Warrick knew Sara the least out of everyone in Vegas- he even knew Greg better than he knew Sara- and he thought that perhaps after her performance they could go grab a bite to eat or get a drink and get to know each other better. He didn't know why, but… he was really looking forward to this.


	3. Have Mercy On The Criminal

"I can barely walk in these things…" Sara mumbled to herself watching as she attempted to walk in a pair of black heels she- or _someone_- had slipped into her closet. She felt like she was walking on two mini sky-scrapers; how could any woman stand to wear these for more than a few minutes without throwing them off of a cliff? They were painful; they squeezed her toes and raised her heel at a particularly painful angle. The heel itself had to have been maybe an inch or two, but whatever it was, no matter how big the heel was it was too big for Sara Sidle to walk around in for hours and hours that night. She could twist her ankle or fall and break her neck, for god's sake!

Kicking the shoes off of her feet and sighing in relief as her feet were freed for about the third time that night in her hunt for what she was going to wear to the club- shoes and all- she once again kneeled down in front of her closet and threw things (some things she didn't even know she still had) over her shoulder as she attempted to look for some shoes that looked bearable. She still hadn't taken a shower so she was still covered in what felt like a few layers of motor oil and transmission fluid, but she wanted to have everything picked out before she got in the shower.

She couldn't wear her work shoes; heck if she could wear her work shoes she'd probably already be out the door on her way to the club. But that would also mean that she would arrive in her normal attire that consisted of flat black shoes- sometimes even tennis shoes-, a random t-shirt she had picked out from her closet as she reached over her head for clothes, and her signature brown or black slacks. Even Sara knew that wasn't necessarily 'stage appropriate', and she wasn't one to talk about what was and what wasn't appropriate in the line of fashion. Tonight she had to look like… well, probably like The Whore of Babylon, as her mother might say if she were there looking at her right now.

Getting to her feet and dusting her pants off with her hands, Sara looked at the clothes in her closet like they were a suspect she was interrogating that she just couldn't crack. So far, it was closet-1, Sara-0.

_Alright, think Sara,_ she told herself, pacing back and forth in her bedroom which now looked like a regular B&E with the thrown-around clothes and other miscellaneous items laying around on the floor. Why didn't Sara have that basic woman instinct that told her what looked nice and what didn't, what showed off just the right amount of cleavage and what didn't, and that she should always have something dressy on-hand _just incase_? Well, Sara wasn't like a lot of other women her age, she thought. She didn't like wearing things that was revealing in the cleavage department; she didn't like that, it made her feel naked. Well, half-naked, literally. And she grew up right next to an ocean, she reminded herself, and went to college in Boston, so most of her time outside in the world was spent bundled-up looking like an Eskimo.

This would be the perfect moment to call Catherine for help, Sara knew. But… she and Catherine still had sort of a rocky-relationship, their relationship was nothing like the one she had with Grissom or… say, Warrick, perhaps. But Catherine was sort of the expert in this sort of thing, well, she was better in this field that Sara was that was for sure, so the idea of calling Catherine for help in this sort of thing was very appealing…

But then Sara saw something in her closet behind her layers and layers of solid-colored tops and slacks. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, Sara walked further into her closet and parted both rows of clothes; she felt like Moses parting the sea. What she saw made her gasp. This was the sort of thing that a teenager wore to prom night underneath their suspicious sweatshirt and sweatpants to retaliate against their parents' wishes for them to not go looking like a tramp. This was what Sara classified as 'sexy, black, and…'

'Tiny'! Good god, this thing couldn't go past her knees at all!

Swallowing her fear- the fear of this little _very_ black piece of fabric looking like a towel she had wrapped around herself- Sara headed over to her bedroom door and closed it so she could hold it up to herself in the full-length mirror she had positioned on the back of her door. Holding the dress up to herself, she cringed as she painfully watched it end just above her knees. Sometimes Sara wondered why she had to be so tall.

Putting the dress down on her bed, Sara dug into her closet once more, looking around frantically for something else. This couldn't be the only thing she could wear, right…? She had to have something else, she just had to! She wondered if this was the part in most women's lives when they discovered religion. _Jesus!_

Sighing in defeat as her search for another dress came up empty, Sara lowered her head just in time to see a pair of heels that matched her dress. Great, so that was pretty much a guarantee that she would be wearing this dangerous black little number tonight. Now she wished her search hadn't been quite this easy!

Reluctantly Sara set her shoes down beside her dress and headed into the bathroom for her shower. She must smell like… well, she had just spent hours under a leaking metal piece of crap, she thought!

Getting rid of her work clothes and depositing them on the floor, Sara stepped inside the shower and turned the faucets on, shivering as a gallon or two of ice-cold water poured down her body. Sara hung her head and watched as grayish and brownish liquids receded into the drain from off of her own body. _Disgusting,_ she thought. Well, at least she had one of the women instincts- she knew what was and was not disgusting.

After scrubbing at her arms and other various parts of her body with a washcloth until she was certain that she had gotten all of the dirt, oil and grime the day had brought off of her body, Sara turned the faucets off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing her towel from off the towel rack and wrapping it around herself. Closing her bathroom door- something Sara always did even though she lived alone and didn't even have a pet (she needed her privacy, she tried to reason)- Sara grabbed another towel and started drying her hair as she got the blow-dryer ready to use. She hated using the blow-dryer; it was a loud, unnecessary, power-sucking device, but it did come in-handy when she was in a rush and needed her hair dry immediately, she had to give it that.

After using the blow-dryer and combing out small tangles in her hair (which were rarely found among the brunette's silky brown locks), Sara picked up a can of hair-spray and eyed it suspiciously. On one had she didn't like using hair-spray as it made her sneeze uncontrollably and become a potential fire-hazard, but on the other hand it did help, so she ended up using it most of the time despite her reasons not to. She wasn't as foreign to these things she thought she was! She proudly told herself.

Closing her eyes and spraying over her hair, Sara opened her eyes once she was finished and was surprised to find that she didn't have a sneezing fit as she usually did. The next task on her to-do list was to get dressed in her dangerously-short black little dress. This dress was definitely going to bring her out of her comfort zone; sure, lots of things had brought her out of her comfort zone, coming to Vegas was one of them as the people (other than Grissom) and things here were all foreign to her, but this was something so small- and ridiculous, in her eyes- that would bring her out of her comfort zone physically, not mentally.

Opening her bathroom door and heading over to her bed, Sara picked the dress up once again and held it up to herself. It showed off her legs and arms; the dress ended just above her knees leaving her legs gloriously bare to onlookers, and the dress was also sleeveless which showed off her arms and shoulders. But Trey said that she had a nice body… and that a nice dress that showed off her legs and arms would look nice on her, so that helped to motivate her to actually put the dress on. So Sara put the dress on- with one eye closed.

When she opened her eyes she gasped for the second time that day. The dress hugged every right curve of her body (Sara didn't know she had curves!), if she did say so herself. Doing a full 360-degree turn, Sara noted that the dress wasn't skin-tight like Richard Simmons' shorts were in his 80s work-out videos her mother used to watch, so that made her feel a bit better. She actually looked quite nice, she thought.

Putting her shoes on, Sara couldn't help but laugh. She sort of looked like she was going to a funeral wearing this solid black dress with the matching shoes.

Heading back into the bathroom, hearing her heels click and clack with each step she took, Sara got ready to add the final touch; makeup. Stage-worthy, she told herself, stage-worthy. She had to look nice, but she couldn't go overboard. Moving from her normal lip-gloss to actual lipstick, Sara applied a darker color than she usually wore to go with her black theme. Choosing a color of eye-shadow (she finally settled on a dark purple), Sara put it on and looked at herself in the mirror once she was finished.

Sara couldn't help but smile, revealing her pearly-white teeth. She looked pretty, and she _felt_ pretty.

As Sara was just finishing getting ready, Warrick was already on his way to the club still with the same smile on his face from before. He couldn't wait to see the look on Sara's face when she noticed him in the audience. His coming was by no means intended to be rude or mean, or just something he was doing for kicks; he really wanted to go to this performance. And still, Warrick couldn't help but wonder why he wanted to go to her performance so badly; they were just friends, nothing more, it wasn't like she was his… girlfriend.

Warrick tried to tell himself he'd do this for any of his other friends; once he had taken Greg to a baseball game on the weekend, another time he and Nick had gone to the monster-truck rally in one of the stadiums along the Strip. They were men, however… and Sara was a _woman…_ a woman he could feel attracted to, a woman he could… develop feelings for.

Just then, to Warrick's relief, he arrived at the club and parked right next to the building. About to unbuckle himself, a thought quickly struck Warrick's mind- if he was parked right in front of the building, or right next to it, for that matter, Sara would be able to tell that he was there by the LVPD sticker clearly placed in the right bottom corner of his windshield. Then it wouldn't be much of a surprise, would it?

Turning the car back on with a slight grin on his face, Warrick looked over his shoulder to make sure no cars were coming before he pulled back into the road to find another parking spot.

_I hope I'm not late,_ Sara thought as she arrived at the Midnight, parking right in front of the building. _Of course you're not. He told you to come whenever you were free on Fridays,_ Sara reminded herself. Looking in the mirror one last time before getting out, she nodded as if to confirm that she was ready to go inside, and opened her car door, throwing her legs over the side of the seat as she got out. Closing the door behind her, Sara took a deep breath as she did the first time she had stepped foot near the building.

Putting a confident smile on her face, Sara walked toward the grayish-orange stucco-covered building and pushed the door open, walking inside. The second she walked inside Sara could definitely tell it was very much indeed a Friday night; the bar area, clean and organized or not, reeked of liquor and cigarette smoke just like any other bar. Sara tried to look around for any sign of Trey but the building was much too crowded for her to single out one particular person.

"Excuse me…?" she asked, making her way through person after person to get to the bartender. Luckily it was the same bartender Sara had seen the other night she was here, so he would remember her.

"Ah, you again," the bartender said with a small smile, handing another person their drink. "How can I help you?"

"I was looking for Trey," Sara explained, shooting him a smile. "Do you know where I could find him?"

"Yeah, he's in his office, just go on back," the bartender instructed her, pointing to the far back corner of the building where Trey's office was.

"Thanks," Sara smiled, walking in that direction. The red, velvety carpet that covered the floor was now littered in peanuts and small drops of beer and other alcoholic beverages, and people were coming and going from the bathrooms like a line of train cars; Sara knew the interior of the bathrooms must've been absolutely filthy.

In her observation of the now-crowded club Sara failed to notice that Warrick was sitting in the small area in the very middle of the club set aside for the audience for the performers. She actually walked right past him and probably wouldn't have noticed his presence until she got on stage on-looking the audience, or even at all if he hadn't gotten up and bumped into her on his way to the bar.

"I'm sorry about that," Sara said, finally looking up at the person who had bumped into her.

"Excuse me—"Warrick started, before realizing that the person he had bumped into was Sara. He did a double-take; he didn't mean to, but he had to make sure the image in front of him was real. This was Sara! Wow! He had never imagined she would ever dress herself up like this; Catherine went out to bars and clubs all the time and he had seen her get dolled-up, but… Sara was really something. He had never imagined…

"…Warrick!" Sara was the first to break the awkward silence between the two. "…What are you doing here?" she asked, not knowing what else to say. _Well that sounded rude!_

"I, uh…" Warrick said, feeling his eyes begin to travel down her body. _Don't gawk!_ He told himself. _And close your mouth!_ He thought closing his mouth as his gaze reverted back to Sara's eyes. "Uh… I decided to come and watch your performance!"

"…Really?" Sara asked, noticing where his eyes had previously gone. _Is he checking you out…? Oh my god, I think Warrick's checking you out!_ Sara thought to herself, unable to hide an uncontrollable smile as it found its way onto her mouth. She felt like giggling like a giddy schoolgirl who had just been invited to the prom. For what reason, however, Sara did not know.

"Yeah," Warrick said, shooting her a smile. "I thought I'd come and see you, you know… just to give you some support!"

"Well… thanks!" Sara said. _You look like a dork with that stupid smile on your face, Sara!_

"Well, uh… you should get going," Warrick told her. "I'll see you later," he said, walking back to his table. Sitting down, he waved at her to indicate where he was sitting.

"Yeah…!" Sara said, even though he was already sitting back down at his table. Turning around and heading toward Trey's office once again, Sara tried to calm herself down. She needed a net to catch all the butterflies in her stomach right now. But why was she so excited…? Was it just because she was going to get up on a stage in front of a ton of people, or… because she was going to get up on a stage in front of Warrick…?

Just then the door to Trey's office opened and Trey himself walked out with a smile on his face. "Hello, Sara!" he greeted her, looking her up and down for a moment.

Sara jumped a little when he popped out of the door and she quickly composed herself. "…Yeah!" Or so she thought.

"Well, you do look ravishing," he told her, shooting her a smile.

"Thanks," Sara smiled. Up until just now she had completely forgotten about what Trey had done the first time they met, because she decided not to make a big deal out of it. So why should she now? _He was just looking at you, you'll be okay,_ she told herself and quickly setting that matter aside. Besides, Warrick was here… actually, there were tons of people here, they'd be able to tell if he tried… anything.

"Have you been practicing the song?" Trey asked her, bringing her out of her thoughts.

And then it dawned on her; she had absolutely _no_ clue what song they were going to be doing. Fear and panic began to overcome Sara as she tried to think of the song, momentarily forgetting about what she had just been thinking of.

Trey chuckled. "I'm just kidding you, we didn't decide on a song," he told her. "I was thinking about that Sheryl Crow song you sang, though. You did really well on that song and there's some nice piano in that song I could do in my sleep," he winked at her.

"…Okay!" Sara said again. _You sound like an idiot!_ She told herself.

"Alright, then let's get to it!" Trey said, closing the door to his office and heading toward the stage. "Don't be shy, come on!" he encouraged Sara once he noticed she wasn't following him.

Sara just nodded, swallowing hard as she began to follow him up the stairs leading to the stage. _This is it, you can do this… just imagine Warrick being the only person in the audience. He's your friend, he won't judge you,_ she thought to herself. Finally getting to the top of the stairs, she took a deep breath as she heard undecipherable chatter amongst the members of the audience behind the curtain covering the stage.

"Alright Sara, hear you go," Trey said, holding a microphone out to her. "I notice you're wearing heels, so if you don't want to walk around the stage, or if you're just not the type of person who likes to jump around," he smiled, "You can sit on the piano if you want."

"Okay, thanks," Sara told him, shooting him an appreciative smile as she took the microphone. Before she had a chance to say anything else Trey had grabbed her arm, brining her over to the piano. "Alright, do you need some help getting up?" Trey asked her.

"It wouldn't hurt," Sara told him, shooting him a bashful smile. The Sara from before who had been paranoid about this guy touching her would've never had agreed to let him help her on the piano, but Sara had convinced herself that it was an accident and that Trey wasn't a bad guy. Sara had completely forgotten about that now; she was so excited, so fully of the ecstasy that was being on stage in front of a crowd of people.

"Alright," Trey smiled, grabbing under her arms and lifting her up onto the piano. He sat down on his piano bench behind her, rolling up his shirt sleeves. "Here we go, Sara," he told her, and without much more warning the curtains parted.

Warrick, sitting in the audience, immediately locked his eyes on Sara lying sprawled-out across the piano with a microphone in her hand. She looked so beautiful with the light shining down, the small streaks of gold in her hair shimmering as the light shone down on them.

Without any introduction Warrick watched the man at the piano begin to play the opening notes of Always on Your Side, a song by Sheryl Crow. _Wow,_ Warrick thought, _Sheryl Crow? I didn't think Sara would be singing that song._ Then again, Warrick thought, he didn't know Sara very well and he hadn't been around her long enough to listen to the things she sang. Sure, he had heard her, but… Sara singing had sort of become something he was used to, and he never really paid that much attention to what she was singing. She could've been singing about going to the grocery store, for all he knew.

"My yesterdays are almost up and neatly put away," Sara sang, "But every now and then you come to mind," she put a stress on the last word of the verse, "'Cause you were always waiting to get picked to play the game, but when your name was called you found a place to hide," she took a small breath, "When you knew that I was always on your side."

Warrick was staring at her with his mouth wide-open in complete shock.

"Everything was easy then," Sara started the next few verses.

_Wow, that's tough, those notes are a lot lower than the others,_ Warrick thought, a small smile creeping its way around the corners of his mouth.

"So sweet and innocent," Sara continued. So lost in the excitement and intensity of the moment, she failed to notice that Trey wasn't exactly just playing the piano. "But your demons and your angels—"Sara was about to continue when she felt something on her leg. Skin meeting skin and this wasn't just from her legs rubbing against each other.

She inhaled sharply, feeling it slowly creep up from her ankle to her calve; he was touching her. Again. And this wasn't any accident, she knew. He was busy playing the piano, how would he be able to do this on accident?

The audience grew deathly silent as Sara stopped singing but the piano continued playing. Warrick looked at Sara in confusion, noting how uncomfortable she looked. _Its okay Sara, you're doing great,_ he tried to mentally encourage her, _and you can do it._ But then he noticed the piano player's hand which was slowly making its way up to her inner thigh.

Sara stuttered as she started to shake slightly. He was touching her, _why_ was he touching her? She felt his hand creep under her dress and she whimpered softly, shutting her eyes tightly. Why wouldn't he stop?

Warrick immediately got to his feet, his jaw dropping as his hands balled into fists. _Get your hands off of her, you son of a bitch!_ He thought, watching as the piano player continued playing the piano with one hand, but his other hand doing something else.

Sara felt the same sinking sensation she had first felt when Trey had touched her 'accidentally'. She felt his fingers rolling over her gooseflesh making her tremble as his hand explored. She wanted to scream and slap his hand away but for some reason she didn't. She didn't know if it was because they were on stage in front of a bunch of people, or that she didn't want to run the risk of losing her job, but she didn't say or do anything.

Trey finished the song without Sara singing, his hand slowly returning to his side. There was a long silence from the audience until they began to clap softly, looking back and forth at each other as if to ask "What the hell just happened?"

The second Sara felt Trey's hand move away from her she practically dropped the microphone she had been holding and almost ran off the stage. Trey, however, didn't see anything awkward or inappropriate about what just happened, or he did and he just wanted to keep the crowd at bay, Sara wasn't sure.

_What the hell just happened?_ Warrick thought, watching Sara run off of the stage.


	4. Blues For Baby And Me

**A/N: Thank you to all who have been reading and/or reviewing this far! I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter :)**

Sara ran off the stage, feeling her heart pounding in her ears and her blood racing through her veins as she took the stairs three at a time. Her skin was still tingling from where he had touched her; she felt like she was on fire. Her nerves were screaming at her to get out of here, even the little angel and devil on her shoulder- that came out only on occasions where she was making a decision that could possibly cause someone else harm or have some consequence of some sort- were screaming at her to get as far away from the man up on stage as possible.

Sara Sidle may not have had the basic woman instincts some people had, but she sure was smart enough to know when to get the hell out of dodge.

The hallway leading up to the outside area of the stage- to safety- seemed never-ending as she tried her hardest to reach it. She was going to push anyone and anything that got in her way. As she was about to reach the end, she felt her heel get snagged in a very evil thread on the carpet, sending her tumbling to the floor. Ignoring the sweat dripping down her face, Sara tugged on her shoe to try and free herself, but when she caught a glimpse of Trey waving at the audience on the stage that was motivation enough for her to leave her god-forsaken shoes behind.

Scrambling to the floor, Sara kicked her shoes off and almost tumbled to the floor once more as she tried to regain her balance, crawling on all-fours. She dashed past the bathrooms, almost knocking over a man who had just opened the men's bathroom door only to discover a black blur rushing past him, but she didn't notice him. All she noticed was the sound of her own heart beating and the fear she felt inside of her that was growing bigger by the second.

"Is… that one of dem dern roadrunners…?" the club manager asked, adjusting his glasses as he caught a glimpse of Sara as she ran past the bar area.

"What was that, Sir?" the bartender who usually was the first one to greet Sara at the door asked, putting down a glass he had just cleaned. Spotting Sara running past them, he slowly shook his head. "No, Sir… I don't think that's a roadrunner… it's a person."

"Nonsense, I've seen one of them there rodents more than once in 'm lifetime, don't you go tellin' me that ain't it!" the old man persisted, pointing a bony shaky finger at Sara as she headed toward the door.

Warrick, back at the seating area with the rest of the confused audience members, was trying to look over people's heads to catch a glimpse of Sara. She couldn't have gone far, but… he saw her, and she was terrified. He was sure she wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, and he couldn't blame her. Leaving his half-empty drink at the table he was sitting at, Warrick made his way through the maze of people and tables in the seating area to try and find Sara. He figured she must be around the area behind the velvety red curtains.

"Sara!" Warrick said, running around the curtains to the small hallway leading up to the stage. "I—" But just as he was about to continue his sentence Warrick noticed that there was no one in sight, well, that was, no one except for the son of a bitch on-stage. But he would deal with him later- right now he needed to find Sara herself. Looking down at the floor, Warrick noticed two high-heeled shoes lying abandoned on the carpet.

Now more worried than ever that something had happened to her, Warrick jogged toward the front of the bar, ignoring the cloud of smoke that he was hit with as he arrived. Waving it away from his face with his hand, he tried to get the bartender's attention. "Sir! Excuse me, Sir?"

"What can I do for you?" the bartender asked another glass- that he had probably wiped dry for the tenth time now- and white rag in his hands.

"Did you see one of your performers run past here just now?" Warrick asked. Really, he didn't want to say 'your performers', as that showed possessiveness, and he knew damn well Sara didn't belong to these people; she didn't belong to anyone. And she sure as hell wasn't going to be coming back to this place anytime soon if he had anything to do about it.

"Oh, you mean Sara?" the bartender asked. "Yeah, she ran past her just a few minutes ago. She looked pretty upset," he explained, still wiping the glass. "Poor kid; she must've been nervous; it's her first time up on stage here, y'know," he told Warrick, finally putting the glass down on the bar.

_You have no idea,_ Warrick wanted to add, but instead nodded. "Where did she go?"

"She ran right out the door," the bartender informed him, "Didn't even bother saying goodnight."

Outside, Sara had run to her car, almost plowing herself into it like another oncoming car as she tried to open the door. Remembering that she locked the doors- a smart thing that anyone would do that at the moment seemed to be the work of the devil- she reached into her pockets only to remember that she didn't have pockets on this damn thing she was wearing. Then she discovered that she didn't even have her purse with her. She was so determined to get out of that building that she didn't grab any of her possessions.

Looking back at the building as she contemplating going back in to get her keys or not, she made her decision when she felt the bile forming in her throat as the thought even crossed her mind. Going back inside that building would mean seeing Trey again… and she definitely did not want to do that; she didn't want to ever see his face again. Shaking her head, she dashed down the sidewalk and crossed the street, the adrenaline coursing through her body numbing the pain from her bare feet touching the jagged edges of road (among other things).

Warrick ran outside expecting Sara's car to be long gone by now, but was surprised to find it still parked in the exact same place from before. Confused, Warrick looked down at the ground spotting a stepped-in wad of gum sticking to the pavement and something else he had seen much too often in his life- blood. Swallowing hard, Warrick looked on only to see that there was a trail of footprints, like the trail of bread crumbs in Hansel and Gretle, one of the storybook tales his grandmother used to read him when he was just a boy.

Almost afraid of what Warrick would find when he finally got to the end of the trail Warrick crossed the street, almost getting hit by an oncoming car in the process. Ignoring the obscenities the man in the car threw his way, Warrick followed the bloody footprints hoping that they would lead him to wherever Sara was. If this trail led him to Sara and if this was her blood… he was just hoping that she wasn't bleeding too badly. What the hell did that bastard do to her…?

Warrick continued to follow the trail of bloody footprints for about another block until he noticed a figure limping along not too far ahead of him. This was one of the nights where he was glad Vegas had all the flashing lights on all the time as he was able to determine whether or not the figure ahead of him really was indeed Sara. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught a glimpse of her face as she turned her head from side-to-side.

"Sara!" Warrick called, trying to get her attention.

Sara was whimpering quietly to herself, still not slowing down or stopping even when she heard Warrick behind her. She still needed to get away from Trey… and she wasn't far enough away.

"Sara, it's me!" Warrick said, slowly picking up his pace when he noticed that his previous comment didn't seem to faze her the slightest. When she continued down the sidewalk, Warrick jogged up behind her, "Sara!"

Sara finally turned around, not looking where she was going and tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. Landing on the ground, she looked up to see Warrick towering over her, kneeling down slowly beside her and offering her a hand to help her get up. "Sara…" Warrick whispered, "Are you okay…?"

Sara remained silent, slowly inching her hand toward Warrick's as if it was an animal about to bite her.

"Sara…" Warrick slowly said. "Are you okay…?" he repeated.

"…Yeah," Sara finally replied, bringing her hand back to her side. Nodding slowly, she said once again for reassurance, "Yeah."

Warrick bit his lip, slowly looking down at her feet that were lying gingerly on the pavement, the bottoms no longer touching the ground revealing how torn-up they were. "Ooh…" Warrick winced, slowly lifting one of her feet into his hands. "Sara… this looks bad, girl…"

Sara slowly looked up at Warrick, wincing and feeling the pain from her feet for the first time as the adrenaline left her body.

"Sorry…" Warrick apologized as he looked her foot over. There were various cuts and scrapes and the biggest cut was in the very middle with a piece of green glass sticking out of the cut. Warrick winced once again as he observed her injuries. _Damn, Sara… you were really running, weren't you…? _"Sara… this really looks pretty bad," Warrick told her.

"…Sorry," Sara whispered, not really knowing what else to say.

"It's okay," Warrick told her. "You have nothing to be sorry for… but you need to get these cleaned and bandaged," he said. "So do you want me to take you to your place…?" he asked her. Sara just nodded. "Alright," Warrick said, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders and under her legs. "I'm going to pick you up and carry you to my car… you shouldn't be walking on those feet right now," he told her, starting to walk back down the sidewalk.

"Thanks…" Sara quietly said, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and resting her head against his chest. "I really appreciate it, Warrick…"

"No problem," Warrick told her. "It's no trouble…" _No trouble at all. _Walking back down the sidewalk leading to his car, he looked down at Sara every now and then to make sure she was still okay and comfortable for that matter. He smiled a little when he noticed that she had closed her eyes and was probably drifting to sleep. He knew that was good, because she must've worn herself out running away from the club physically, and he was sure she must be exhausted mentally.

About to reach into his pocket to retrieve his keys, Warrick frowned when he determined what it was he was going to have to do in order to do so. Normally this wouldn't have been a very hard thing to do… actually, normally he probably would've been all over it, but… considering what just happened to Sara Warrick didn't think touching her where he was going to have to touch her was going to help her feel better.

"Sara… I need to get my keys out of my pocket," he told her. "Can you…?"

Sara just nodded slowly, reaching into his front pocket and handing him his car keys.

"Thanks," Warrick told her, quickly unlocking the passenger's side door and beginning to set her inside as gently and as carefully as possible. Sara squeezed his neck a little tighter, hesitating before she finally let go. Making sure her feet didn't bump against anything, he set her down and grabbed a towel he had in the backseat and placed it under her feet. "If you want to wipe off some of the… blood…" he frowned, "From your feet, just use that towel," he told her, closing the door and jogging around to the driver's seat.

Sara buckled herself in as Warrick sat down in the car beside her. In a way Warrick felt a bit strange being the driver with Sara in the car. Normally she was so aggressive about those things and practically took his hand off as she snatched the keys from his hands. Smiling just a little, Warrick put the keys in the ignition and immediately cursed when deafening hip-hop music blared through the speakers. "Shit!" Warrick mumbled, reaching over and hitting the eject button on the CD player. "Sorry…" he mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Sara looked over at Warrick, well aware of the redness that was flushing his cheeks. Unable to hide her smile, Sara burst out laughing.

Warrick quickly shot his head to the right. "What?" he asked, a small grin creeping around the corners of his mouth.

"Nothing, Home Dawg, just drive," Sara grinned, turning to look out the window.

Warrick just laughed, pulling out from his parking space. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," he told her, shooting her a smile, "Because that sounds strange coming out of your mouth."

Sara just smiled, looking out the window as he headed toward her apartment complex. She had momentarily forgotten about what had just happened to her in the club. The stinging and burning sensation along the places Trey had touched her had suddenly disappeared, and… Sara could only wonder if it was because Warrick had inadvertently touched her in those same places as he carried her toward his car. There was something calming about Warrick, and she actually felt the safest she had ever felt during all her time in Vegas whenever she was around him.

"Alright, we're here," Warrick said as they pulled up in the parking lot of her apartment complex. "Let me come around and get you, okay?" Warrick asked.

"Okay," Sara immediately replied, looking down at the floor. She was actually looking forward to Warrick picking her up. She liked the feeling of Warrick… his warmth, his scent, his… everything.

Closing the driver's door Warrick got out and walked around to the passenger's side door, opening it and unbuckling Sara. Holding his arms out to her, Sara linked her own around his neck as he hoisted her up into his arms. Closing the door, he headed into the hallway of the apartment complex, looking down at Sara. "Which one's yours?" he asked her.

"Right over there," Sara said, pointing to a door around the corner. "Number 23; there's a spare key under the mat."

Warrick just nodded a they arrived at the right door and he maneuvered his body in such a way so as to be able to bend down in order to retrieve the key, but not having to set Sara down on the pavement in the process. After getting the key, Warrick let out a sigh as he unlocked the door, slowly moving through the doorway and closing it behind him.

"This is nice," Warrick observed, heading into the living room to set Sara down on the couch.

"Thanks," Sara smiled as he set her down on the couch.

"Where's your first-aid kit?" Warrick asked her, brushing his hands against his pants.

"Bathroom, down the hall," Sara directed, pointing to the hallway behind her.

_Well that was obvious,_ Warrick thought to himself, nodding as he headed down the hallway. Walking into the bathroom, Warrick kneeled down and opened the cabinet under the sink, spotting the white kit behind some soaps and… other… things. Walking out of the bathroom, Warrick set the kit down on the coffee table and headed into the kitchen to wash his hands.

Sara looked down at her feet, for the first time realizing how torn-up they really were. When she was running- when the carnage her feet sustained took place- she wasn't thinking about anything else other than getting away from that club. There was dried blood on the tops of her feet and she didn't bother checking to see what the bottom of her feet looked like… she could tell Warrick was right when he said it was pretty bad.

"Alright…" Warrick sighed, heading back into the living room. Sitting down in a lounge chair across from Sara, he gently lifted her left leg up into his lap, opening the first-aid kit and immediately slid his hand inside for the pair of latex gloves.

Sara cleared her throat, shooting Warrick a small smile.

"Oh…" Warrick said, noticing for the first time that he had the gloves already half-way on his hands. "Sorry, habit…" he told her, returning the smile. Setting them aside, Warrick grabbed a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton swabs from the kit, also grabbing a pair of tweezers to remove the small pieces of glass and other things sticking out of her feet. "So how much did you get this place for…?" he asked her, trying to make conversation as he knew the next few moments were going to be painful ones for her.

"Not too, too much," Sara said, wincing as he rubbed some alcohol over the biggest cut in the middle of her foot.

Warrick just nodded, grabbing the pair of tweezers from the kit and slowly moving her foot into a different angle. "I'm going to get the glass out, okay…?" Warrick asked. "Squeeze my hand if it hurts," he told her, holding his hand out to her. Sara immediately took his hand even before the tweezers had grabbed onto the piece of glass lodged in her wound. Warrick winced himself as he felt Sara squeezing his hand as hard as she could as he took the glass out of her foot. "Okay, I'm done, that was the worst one," Warrick told her. "The glass is out… no more Mr. Tweezers," he assured her, shooting her a small smile.

"Thank god," Sara sighed in relief, still not letting go of his hand just yet. "Would you mind if I take a shower…?" she asked him, realizing that it was sort of strange asking him that in her own home.

"Yeah, go ahead," Warrick told her. "And I'll finish up when you come out. Do you want me to carry you?"

Sara slowly shook her head, getting to her feet and putting her weight on her heels so as not to hurt herself further. "…Thanks Warrick," she told him, shooting him a smile. "For everything."

Warrick just smiled. "No problem, Sara. Go get cleaned up," he told her, motioning toward the bathroom.

Sara just nodded, limping toward the bathroom, and she couldn't help but smile when Warrick lifted her into his arms despite her previous comment that she didn't need help.


	5. Showers

**A/N: Thanks again to all who reviewed! This is going to be a happier chapter :)**

"Are you going to sit and watch me?" Sara laughed as Warrick hoisted her up into his muscular arms.

"Maybe," Warrick replied, setting her down on the collapsed toilet-seat cover. Immediately blushing after his statement, he cleared his throat and pulled the shower curtain aside, reaching into the shower and turning the faucets. "I'll, uh… just get this ready for you."

"Thanks," Sara said. She couldn't help but notice that as he leaned inside the shower to get it ready for her his jacket and shirt were getting soaked with bathwater. "Here…" Sara offered, slowly sliding his jacket off of his shoulders. When he turned and looked at her she smiled a little, "You were… getting wet," she explained.

"Oh," Warrick said, his mind still trying to register that Sara was taking off some of his clothes. _Stop it. She's confused right now, and hurt. Don't lead her on. _"Thanks," he told her, moving out of the way so she could get in the shower. "How does that feel?" he asked, motioning toward the shower-head and the stream of water pouring down from it.

"It's nice, thank you," Sara told him, holding her hand underneath it. Slowly and carefully getting to her feet, Sara was about to tug her dress up over her head when she remembered that Warrick was standing in the room. "Uh…" Sara coughed, "Could, you uh…?"

"Oh! Right…" Warrick said, quickly turning around and heading out the door. "I'll just be in the living room if you need… anything…" he trailed off, stepping outside and closing the door behind him.

Sara just nodded once the door was closed and quickly stripped herself of all her clothing (which wasn't hard considering how little she was actually wearing), stepping inside the shower and hoping- _praying_- that any other little shards of glass that may be lodged in her feet didn't just press in even further. She was still in pain, but the water was making her feel considerably better. The temperature was just right and she pulled the shower curtain back in place, letting the water pour down over her head.

Part of her couldn't help but wonder if the water was only making her feel better because Warrick had turned it on. No, that's ridiculous, she quickly reasoned. It's not like the man has magic hands.

…Right?

Just outside the door, Warrick was pacing back-and-forth, rubbing his chin in thought. He had a lot on his mind right now- the bastard of a piano player still probably at the club waving and letting the audience kiss his ass, Sara's injuries and how he was going to bandage them… it was a lot to think about. He couldn't stand that such a thing was able to happen to his friend without him being aware of it until it was too late. He wanted to wring the man by his neck and try to do anything to make Sara feel better.

He couldn't imagine how… dirty and violated must feel at the moment. Personally nothing had ever happened to Warrick that made him feel that sort of discomfort. Sure, he had gotten into some things that had caused him discomfort and pain and hurt…when he was younger, he was involved in a lot of fist-fights here and there with the kids in his neighborhood; the kids who only saw two colors, black and white. But that was physical anguish, Warrick thought. The sort of pain Sara was feeling was not the result of a black eye or bruised arm, despite the cuts on her feet.

Warrick knew that her cut-up feet were probably the least of her worries right now. She was feeling mental pain, not physical pain. Sara was all alone here in Vegas; everyone else at the lab had each other, but Sara didn't have any family and she was still making amends with everyone she worked with. She didn't really have anyone, and so he knew that only made dealing with this whole situation even tougher for her.

…And somewhere along Warrick's train-of-thought, even though he was trying his hardest not to, there was the little voice that kept reminding him that Sara- a very wet and naked Sara- was behind the door just in front of him.

"Damn it," Warrick muttered. She was hurt, he tried to remind himself. So that meant no flirting, no… anything! He was going to help her bandage her feet, and then help her get situated in her bed and then let her sleep. Wait… Sara's bed… at Sara's apartment… with Sara…

For god's sake! Warrick wanted to scream.

This was going to be difficult.

Well this sucked, Sara knew. She could barely lean herself over to reach the soap in the soap-dish because she had to arch her foot to do so. She could barely wash the cuts on her knees for obvious reasons. She could barely even wash the easy parts of her body because she was so tired and achy. And why she felt tired and achy, Sara didn't really know. Sure, her feet ached, but… her entire body felt that way. But then she remembered that she hadn't really gotten the greatest night's sleep the night before, and she had run like a bat out of hell to get out of the club only to trip over a crack in the sidewalk and tumbled to the ground. The cold, hard ground.

With a groan, Sara thought about what she was going to do. Well, really, she had three choices: try and clean herself up anyways despite the pain it caused her aching body, just get out of the shower and go to sleep, or… call Warrick in and ask him to help her finish getting cleaned-up. No, that third one was ridiculous! Warrick was her friend, but Sara was pretty sure that having to come into her bathroom and help her finish up her shower because her bloody-and-cut-up feet hurt too much for her to do it on her own wasn't included in the contract. She didn't want him to have to do that.

But she was filthy. She _felt_ filthy and she knew she was. She had taken a dive onto the cold Vegas pavement along the street which had to be one of the dirtiest surfaces man had ever step foot on. She was pretty sure she had landed in gum… among other disgusting and repulsive things she didn't want to even want to think about staying on her body for an extended period of time. And she could get sick, she thought, or a cut or cut(s) could get infected, and she wasn't willing to take that risk.

But Sara still didn't want to ask Warrick! Well, a part of her was actually looking quite forward to it, but the other rational side of her was telling her not to bug him for a favor this fantastically outrageous. She didn't like feeling dependent on other people because it made her feel weak; Sara didn't want to feel like the helpless princesses in the fairytales that couldn't save themselves let alone cut her own meat without a servant or savior there to help and protect them. But this wouldn't make her weak, she assured herself. She really _was_ hurt, and Warrick _was_ her friend, so he would help her, right…? Friends would do anything for their own friends.

So reluctantly- and a bit excitedly (though Sara denied that she was)- Sara called Warrick's name over the sound of the running water that was currently serving no purpose other than reentering the pipes system as it receded into the drains at the moment.

Outside, Warrick nearly jumped when he heard Sara call his name. Poised and ready to leap at anything and anyone that might pose a threat to Sara inside her bathroom, Warrick immediately sprung into action. "Sara?" he quickly asked his hand already on the doorknob. "Sara, what's going on? Are you okay?" he said, turning the knob and throwing the door wide open.

The next few moments were more than awkward for Warrick Brown and Sara Sidle. Awkward didn't even begin to cover it.

Sara had pulled open the shower curtain to let some of the steam escape as she didn't expect Warrick to actually come inside, let alone open the door. Expecting him to reply from outside the door, Sara was more than a little surprised when he was standing- wide-eyed- in the doorway of her bathroom, staring at her standing in the shower looking just as dumbfounded as he did.

"…Oh!" Warrick said, quickly turning away. "I'm so sorry, Sara!" he told her, throwing his arms across his face and shutting his eyes tightly, trying to get any and all images of Sara's sopping-wet naked body out of his mind.

Sara turned bright red, wrapping the shower curtain tightly around herself in attempt to cover up her body. Looking down at the floor bashfully, she swallowed hard. _Did he see me? I think he saw me!_

"W…What did you need, Sara…?" Warrick thought. Well she definitely wasn't going to tell him now that he had barged right in on her in her own private bathroom, he thought. Damn it, he was an idiot. This was her home, her four walls of comfort and security. She should be able to bathe in peace without becoming a stunning figure of sex appeal! She had just been touched- touched in the crudest and inappropriate manner- by someone she had trusted. That was just about as bad as rape, he knew, and he had just walked in on her while she was trying to rid her body of those memories!

"Uh, I…uh…" Sara stuttered, turning to look at the white tile of her shower. "I… needed help…" she murmured.

"Help…?" Warrick asked. "Help with what…?"

"I… I can't really… wash myself," Sara sighed. "I… I'm too achy," she admitted. Now she wasn't that embarrassed that he had seen her naked body, she as more embarrassed that she couldn't finish her own shower by herself. Sara wasn't feeling any discomfort at the thought that Warrick had seen her naked, actually… well, not any discomfort that normally anyone who had just been through what she had endured would be feeling at the moment. She didn't feel betrayed… or any more violated than she already did. She actually thought it was a little cute how shy he looked now.

"…Do you want me to help you?" Warrick asked, before he was able to stop himself.

"…Could you?" Sara asked. "Just… maybe my back? The shower is a tub, too, so if I just sit down I should be able to wash everything… else…" she blushed.

"…Sure," Warrick said. "Do you need me to help you sit down?"

"Could you?" Sara replied to Warrick's surprise.

"Uh…sure," Warrick said, turning around and heading over to Sara, trying his hardest not to look at her. He didn't feel uncomfortable, per say, he just felt like he was violating her personal space. And okay, he did feel uncomfortable. Sara was… a very attractive woman, and now she was standing in front of him, naked…

"Okay, I'm going to try and sit down now," Sara told Warrick, bringing him out of his thoughts. Turning her back toward him, Sara grabbed onto the sides of the shower for support as she slowly lowered her body down to the foot of the shower. When she was about half-way down and Warrick was beginning to relax a bit more, she slipped.

No one exactly knew what happened next.

Sara slipped on a small chunk of soap that had sunk to the bottom of the shower and fell backwards. Before her back could make contact with the edge of the tub/shower, Warrick grabbed under her arms to avoid her getting hurt anymore than she already was. In doing so, though, Warrick fell backwards and lost his balance, tripping over a small ruffle in the rug he had been standing on. Following Warrick was Sara of whom he was still holding her arms with his hands. As he tumbled to the floor she landed right on top of him, flipping herself around as she tried to register what had just happened.

Before Warrick was able to start bombarding Sara with apologies and how this whole thing was his fault, and how he should be going so she could rest in peace, Sara had pressed her lips against his. Warrick's eyes widened as he tried to figure out what she was doing. He was in Sara's apartment… with Sara- a very wet and naked Sara- on top of him, and now she was kissing him…?

Warrick slowly got to his feet, pulling Sara up with him. As much as he wanted to, Warrick knew they shouldn't be doing this. Because kissing generally led to something else... You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to be able to do the math. Sara was still hurt and he didn't want to do this when she was in such a state, not after what had just happened to her. "Sara…" he mumbled, gently trying to push her away from him. "Sara… we can't do this…"

"Why…?" Sara whispered.

"Because… you're confused…" Warrick told her. "After what just happened… I—"

"Warrick, I want to…" Sara whispered. "I'm not confused… and I know what I want," she told him. "And I want to love you…" she whispered, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I…do, too," Warrick whispered, slowly pressing his lips to hers again. He felt her legs wrapping themselves around his waist as they slowly made their way out of the bathroom, heading down to the bedroom.

For the next hour, any doubts in Warrick and Sara's minds about this whole thing were relieved. As they twisted and turned and curled up in each other wrapped and tangled in the bed sheets, they realized just how much they needed and loved each other. Any and all thoughts of the piano man were put to bed for the moment as they indulged themselves in each other.

And when it was over, the places that tingled before on Sara's body before no longer tingled with discomfort or pain; they tingled with happiness and pleasure. They tingled with Warrick.


	6. Someone Saved My Life Tonight

**A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed! I'm really excited about writing the chapter after this one! As always, I hope you guys enjoy :)**

Warrick awoke that morning only to be blinded by a single ray of light shining in through the blinds near the window in the bedroom. Squinting, Warrick looked down at Sara who didn't seem to be awake yet, and he smiled when he remembered he had fallen asleep with his arms linked around her waist. Contemplating moving or not for fear of waking her, Warrick made his decision when the annoying ray of light shined in his eyes once again.

Slowly scooting his body closer to the edge of the bed, Warrick slowly removed his arms from around her waist, thinking he was home-free until he felt Sara's hands wrap around his own, stilling them from movement. "You better not be thinking about moving," Sara mumbled.

Warrick chuckled. "I was just going to shut the blinds. The light's blinding me," he explained, removing his arms and getting to his feet, raising his arms above his head to stretch.

Sara smiled, slowly sitting up and keeping the sheets wrapped around her. "Well, I suppose you could do that."

"Yeah, thanks," Warrick said quickly shutting the blinds and walking back around to the other end of the bed. Crawling back under the covers, he leaned against the headboard and held his arms open to Sara. "You were saying?" he asked with a grin.

Sara smiled and crawled into his lap. His arms quickly re-attached themselves around her waist and he rested his head against hers, leaning forward and kissing the back of her head. Slowly his mouth moved down to her neck and Sara giggled. "Cut it out, Warrick, that tickles," she told him.

"Oh it does, does it…?" Warrick mumbled.

"Yes it does," Sara smiled.

"Is that a bad thing…?" Warrick asked, gently nibbling on her earlobe.

Sara was about to speak but instead let out a low moan. "You're a jerk, you know that, right…?" she mumbled.

"But a loveable jerk," Warrick said with a grin.

"I am _so_ going to get back at you…" Sara mumbled, closing her eyes at the sensation of Warrick's warm mouth on her skin.

"You are…?" Warrick whispered into her ear, letting his warm breath tickle her neck.

"Y-Yes I am," Sara whispered, feeling a shiver run up her spine.

"How…?" Warrick whispered, a teasing hand slowly sliding up her arm.

"…Why would I tell you? I want to surprise you," Sara managed to get out as her body threatened to start trembling violently. _Oh, I WILL get you back, Warrick Brown!_

Warrick just smiled as his hand slid up to her collarbones and paused suddenly. Sara whimpered, wanting desperately for him to move his hand once again, and let out a small sigh of relief when she noticed his other hand beginning to move. "Hey Sara…" Warrick mumbled.

"What…?" Sara whispered.

"I've got your nose," he whispered into her ear. Before Sara could even begin to wonder by he would say such a thing, Warrick's other hand lightly grabbed onto her nose and he moved it away, keeping his hand in a fist. With a chuckle Warrick slid out from underneath Sara, leaping off the bed and running out of the room.

"You _did_ not!" Sara yelled, unable to hide the uncontrollable smile that found its way onto her face. "That was just plain cruel, Warrick Brown!" she called after him, getting out of bed to chase after him. That proved to be a mistake. The second Sara moved her foot she felt a stinging sensation coming from the bottom of her foot that traveled up through her legs. Wincing, she slowly sunk to the floor against the foot of the bed, sitting on the floor wrapped in the bed sheets.

"Hey, you don't want your nose?" Warrick teased, poking his back in the room when he realized that she hadn't chased after him. Looking at her sunken to the floor with her feet bottom-side-up, he quickly mentally slapped himself in the face. He had forgotten all about her feet. "Damn it, I'm sorry, Sara," he told her, walking over to her and kneeling down beside her. "I forgot all about your feet," he explained, slowly picking one of her feet up for inspection. "Here, you, uh… can have your nose back," he said with a small smile.

Sara just laughed, snatching back her invisible nose from Warrick's fist. "So what's the verdict?" she asked him, noticing him studying her feet like a piece of evidence.

"Well… all the glass looks to be out," he told her. "So that's good. But you've still got a lot of cuts and scrapes that, uh… I don't believe we got to bandage last night," he grinned.

"No, I think we were a little preoccupied," Sara returned the grin, wincing when he brushed his fingers against a particularly sensitive cut in the middle of her foot.

"Sorry," Warrick apologized. "Let me go get the first-aid kit from the living room and I'll bandage these up for you," he told her, getting to his feet and walking out of the room. Heading down the hallway, Warrick couldn't help but smile as he noticed all the pictures hanging on the walls were perfectly straight and each the same distance away from each other as the last. When he arrived in the living room Warrick kneeled down and gathered up the first-aid kit, making a quick stop in the kitchen to grab a small bowl and fill it with water.

When Warrick walked into the hallway to head back to Sara with everything he needed, including a washcloth he took from the hallway closet, he couldn't help but stop for a minute when he noticed that Sara had started humming. She was humming the song she had sang at the club the night before, which reminded Warrick that he needed to do something about that bastard of a piano player. But… as much as Warrick wanted to smash the guy's head in, at the moment all he could think of was Sara.

He never thought that he would end up really being in a steady relationship with Sara, because when she first came to Vegas, truth be told Warrick didn't think Sara was the type of person he would get along with. And… she wasn't going to be coming in on the best circumstances, either, Warrick thought. She was going to have to investigate him in the murder of one of their CSIs, so that had sort of automatically put Sara on the list of his least favorite people then. But now Warrick realized that labeling her the second she came to Vegas was one of the dumbest things he had ever done, because Sara had to be the best thing that had ever happened to him.

And with that thought in mind, all Warrick wanted to do now was wrap her in his arms and never let go.

Ever.

He wasn't going to lose her, and he wasn't going to let anything or anyone hurt her or take her away from him.

Immediately dropping everything in his arms, including the (luckily plastic) bowl of water he had gotten, Warrick rushed into the bedroom, feeling tears stinging at his eyes.

"Warrick…?" Sara asked as she immediately stopped humming, her eyes widening when she took in his appearance. "Warrick, what's wrong…?" she whispered. "Are you okay?"

Warrick bent down and scooped Sara up into his arms, wrapping one arm tightly around her back and the other securely around her waist. Sitting down in the same spot she had, he cradled her in his lap, burying his face against her head.

"Warrick…" Sara whispered, slowly turning her head to look over at him. Steady streaks of tears were running down his face as he took a deep breath, his face still buried in her hair.

Warrick slowly shook his head, holding Sara even tighter for fear that she would leave him. Taking another deep breath, he relaxed considerably once he recognized her scent. Slowly he loosened his arms around her, but kept her sitting in his lap.

"Warrick, I'm right here…" Sara whispered, brushing away the tears that were running down his cheeks with her thumbs. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere, ever…" she told him, resting her head against his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I promise…"

"I don't want to ever lose you," Warrick whispered. "And I swear I'll kill anyone that ever hurts you. No, I won't even let them come near you," he amended. "And that piano player… is going to regret the day he ever set eyes on you."

Sara couldn't help but smile just a little, "My knight in shining armor."

Warrick looked up at her, laughing a little as he dried his eyes. "Well, you happen to be a damsel in distress," he told her. "I don't want to let go of you… but I suppose I should bandage up your feet and clean up the mess I made in the hallway, huh?" he asked with a smile.

Sara put a hand to her chin, tilting her head in thought. "There is _one_ other option…" she mused.

"Oh?" Warrick asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

"Onward!" Sara laughed as Warrick carried her into the kitchen on his back.

"Hey, I'm going as fast as I can," Warrick grinned. "Keep your arms around me or you'll fall and that's the last thing we want to have happen."

"Yes, Sir," Sara said firmly, wrapping both her arms and legs around him.

Warrick just laughed as he filled up the same bowl with more water. "Okay, so now I think we can go fix your feet," he smiled as he carried her toward the bedroom.

"Whoopee!" Sara said with a giggle, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Warrick just started laughing. "You're cheerful today," he told her, walking into the bedroom and gently setting her down on the bed. "Your laugh is cute," he smiled, tapping her nose with his index finger.

Sara felt her cheeks flush, turning a light shade of red.

Warrick laughed again, sitting down across from her on the bed. "Yup, definitely cute," he told her, setting the first-aid kit down in his lap. "Alright… so rubbing alcohol…" Sara cringed, "Gauzes… cotton balls and water to help take the sting away," he said, putting everything down on the bed in separate piles. Looking up at Sara, he smiled apologetically. "I know, it doesn't sound like fun," he told her. "But it'll be over soon," he assured her.

"And then you're giving me a backrub," Sara mumbled, laying down and lifting one of her feet into his lap.

Warrick laughed. "I don't remember that being part of the deal."

"It is now," Sara smiled.

Warrick pouted and then started laughing when Sara shot him a puppy-dog-eye look. "Alright, deal," he smiled, dabbing one of the cotton balls in the bottle of rubbing alcohol. "And I'm going to be looking forward to that foot rub you're going to give me afterwards."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Not gonna happen, Brown."

Warrick laughed. "Alright, alright, fair enough," he told her. "Okay, this is going to sting," he told her, motioning to the cotton ball in his hand. Putting his free hand on her leg, he gently brushed his thumb against her skin as he began to dab her cuts with the alcohol. Sara let out a hiss of pain, shutting her eyes tightly and gritting her teeth, willing her body to stay still. "Hey…" Warrick whispered. "Shh… its okay, you're doing well," he encouraged her.

Once the cut was clean, Warrick took the washcloth he had gotten from the closet and soaked it in the bowl of ice cold water he had filled from the kitchen to help soothe the pain if not even numb it a little bit. "Okay, now this is going to be cold," he told Sara as another warning, gently pressing the cloth against her foot.

Sara sighed, her body relaxing as the pain began to go away. "That feels good…"

"I'm glad," Warrick smiled. "I'll bandage your feet once all the cuts are cleaned, and then I'll give you your backrub, and then you can give me my foot rub…" he laughed when Sara threw him a look. "And then…" he trailed off.

"And then…?" Sara prompted.

Warrick bit his lip, trying to figure out how he was going to say this. "Sara… I… really want to go deal with that piano player. I don't want you ever near him or that place again."

Sara frowned, looking over at him as he dabbed her foot with more rubbing alcohol, the pain seemingly disappearing. "Warrick… I have to go back. I can't just quit this job."

"Why not, Sara?" Warrick asked, not quite understanding what she was saying. She had just been molested by the man, possibly even more than once as far as Warrick knew, and now she was going to go back to the same place it had all happened and possibly have it happen again…?

"…It's my diversion," Sara finally said.

Warrick stopped in mid-rub on her foot, looking up at her with a confused look. "'Diversion'…?"

Sara just nodded, sighing as she closed her eyes. "The case that Nick, Grissom and I were working- you know the one with Jane…" Sara slowly shook her head, "Pam," she corrected herself. "Pamela Adler?"

"Yeah, I heard about that," Warrick nodded, "Sounded like a tough case. But you caught the guy, didn't you?"

"But that's just it, Warrick," Sara said, shaking her head. "He's going to be out of juvie in 48 months, she's brain-dead, and there's nothing we can do about it."

"…Sara, you did your job," Warrick told her. "It's not your job to take people out of vegetative states…" he trained to explain.

Sara just sighed, slowly sitting up and leaning against the headboard. "I know, and… I'm sorry. See? This is exactly what I mean…" she mumbled.

"About what…?" Warrick questioned.

"…I was looking through the missing-persons database to try and ID her," Sara told him, "The kid's DNA was in CODIS, and we had no other way of identifying the victim. Grissom came in, and… he told me that I needed to get a diversion."

"I don't… understand," Warrick said.

"He told me that I can't get too close to the victims," Sara explained, "And he told me that if I don't get a diversion, I'll burn out because I won't be able to continue coping with the things we see everyday…" Sara whispered. "Warrick, I can't let that happen, I just can't burn out. This job… is going to be hard to find anywhere else again," she explained. "It's the only thing I have to get away from work…" she said.

Warrick nodded slowly, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. _Gris… why did you say that? You know that Sara's work is everything to her…_

"That is except for you of course," Sara said, shooting him a small smile.

"But I may be working when you're off," Warrick frowned. And then it dawned on him- her partner was a piano player. It wasn't like he had never played the piano before! Now he was mentally thanking his grandmother for forcing him to piano lessons when he was kid. "Say, Sara…"

"Huh…?" Sara asked.

"Your partner is a piano player," he told her, "And I happen to know how to play the piano…"

Sara's face slowly brightened. "So you could… be my partner?"

"Exactly," Warrick smiled, "All you have to do is pick a song and I'll play right along to it. It'll be good for both of us." _And I'll kill that man if he says otherwise._

Sara let out a squeal of glee as she jumped toward Warrick on the bed, wrapping her arms tightly around his mid-section. Warrick just laughed as he slowly lifted Sara up, setting her down in his lap. "Thanks, Warrick," Sara smiled. _I wouldn't like anything more than that._

"No problem, Sara," Warrick smiled. "Now how about I finish bandaging up your feet and then we can pick a song?"

"Don't forget about my backrub," Sara reminded him, lying back down on the bed.

"…And my foot rub," Warrick said, laughing as Sara threw a pillow at him.


	7. The Boogeyman

**A/N: Thanks again to all who reviewed! This chapter takes place two weeks after the last Friday at the club.**

Scent triggered memory, and Warrick Brown found that out the hard way. Her scent was intoxicating; her scent meant that she was nearby, and her being nearby meant that he could just reach out and touch her… kiss her, hold her… love her. The faint hint of vanilla and cherry blossom made him think of laying tangled in the bed-sheets with her, it made him think of that one night; that one _perfect_ night. How beautiful she was, how… wonderful her whole was; how he felt as though he were suffocating and the only thing keeping him from cheating death was her lips.

But every time he set eyes on her, it was rare that he didn't feel the need to ravish her right then and there.

He thought it a bit silly to have grown to need her so, but ever since that night he could not shake this feeling of needing, wanting. He loved this woman more than anything or anyone else in the world, and he would be goddamned if anyone ever took her away from him or did something to hurt her. He would shield her with his life; he would run in the way of bullets, jump in the path of knives, anything to ensure that she was safe.

Everything about her drove him to the brink of insanity. Her voice was heavenly; to him it was if an angel was singing the Hallelujah chorus. Her smile sent shivers down his spine that tickled his nerves like live wires, sending electricity throughout his body like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes were the pathway to her soul, the core of his desire and lust for her. He loved her nose, her lips, her everything.

And there was also something about her that made him feel like a virgin on prom night, something that made him feel weak at the knees. And for god's sake, he told himself, he wasn't a giddy schoolgirl who had just been asked to the dance, he was a grown man in his thirties, fully capable of handling these emotions. At least that was what he thought. The emotions and thoughts he was experiencing were overwhelming. He had never felt this way about anyone in his life before and it was a bit intimidating.

But for Sara, he was willing to take the risk.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he fixed his tie with a sigh, smoothing out a few strands of hair on his head with the palm of his hand. Straightening out his shirt sleeves, he decided that he was ready after a few minor touch-ups and a spray of cologne; the cologne _she_ liked.

He nearly jumped when he saw her emerge from the doorway. She looked absolutely gorgeous; a long black dress (longer than the one she had found in her closet, Warrick made sure of that), hair fixed and kept together in a clip behind her head. He turned around and watched her head over to her dresser and grab something before she dashed back into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

He watched her for a moment as she looked at herself in the mirror, trying to make sure that she was presentable. Oh, she was so much _more_ than that, Warrick thought. She took the cap off of a tube of lipstick and applied a dark red color, keeping her eyes trained on the mirror to take sure she didn't mess up and end up looking like a tribal member who tried to conjure up evil spirits. She nearly jumped when she felt arms snake around her waist, stilling her from movement.

"Damn, Sara…" Warrick whispered, resting his head in the crook of her neck from behind her.

"_Warrick,_" Sara said in a teasing tone.

"You look beautiful," Warrick whispered into her ear.

"Why thank you…" Sara smiled, "You look very handsome."

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me…?" Warrick mumbled, gently trailing tender, sweet kisses along her neck.

"Mmm… I have an idea," Sara mumbled, closing her eyes at the sensation of Warrick's warm mouth on her skin. "Can't you at least wait until after the performance…?"

"I don't know if I can…" Warrick whispered, gently nibbling just under her earlobe and then smoothing the skin over with his tongue. He still wanted to explore every part of her body, taste every part of her.

"Warrick…" Sara groaned, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. "Later…" she whispered, "We're going to be late…"

"Then let's not go…" Warrick mumbled, slowly moving his hands down to her waist.

"As appetizing as you're making that sound…" Sara mumbled back as their lips stayed together, "We've already blown them off once…" she offered a small smile.

"Alright…" Warrick finally said, letting out a defeated sigh. "And then it's straight home," he told her, shooting her a grin.

Sara laughed. "Deal," she told him, walking out of the bathroom to grab her purse.

_I love you, Sara,_ Warrick thought, _and if anyone so much as looks at you a certain way I'll make sure that they never do it again… I love you, and I swear I'm going to protect you._ And then Warrick remembered the piano player, well, Trey, as Sara said the man's name was. Warrick felt a small flame of anger growing bigger and bigger deep inside of him, like someone had started a bonfire in his soul and kept adding dry grass to the pile. Anger flashed in his eyes and he gritted his teeth so he wouldn't let out an explicative under his breath.

"Come on, Warrick!" Sara called from the kitchen.

Warrick frowned to himself, walking out from her bedroom and heading into the kitchen to meet back up with Sara.

"You ready?" Sara asked him, shooting him a smile. When he just nodded and automatically headed toward the front door, she could tell that something was wrong. He was no longer smiling and he looked very stern; his eyes flashed with an emotion she hadn't often seen on him. "Warrick… are you okay?"

"What?" Warrick blinked, looking over at Sara. "Oh… yeah, I'm cool," he told her, holding the door open for her. Shooting her a small smile, he said, "Just thinking. After you," he motioned outside.

"Okay…" Sara said, a small smile slowly returning to her face. "Thanks," she told him, walking through the door and watching as he closed the door behind her, taking the spare key she had made for him and locking it up.

"Ready?" Warrick smiled, holding his hand out to her.

"Ready," Sara smiled, taking his hand and letting him lead her toward the car.

Warrick knew that Sara was currently in a very good mood, and he didn't want to ruin the beautiful smile on her face with his thoughts about Trey, who, in Warrick's eyes, was a dead man if he even _looked_ at Sara. He wasn't going to make her nervous because he knew she was already nervous enough about going back on stage in front of a bunch of people, even though he knew she was going to do just fine. So Warrick decided that he was going to be the one to do the worrying tonight. Sara had enough to worry about, and he didn't want to burden her by putting even more weight on her shoulders.

Warrick wondered for a moment why Sara didn't seem nervous about going back to the club after what had happened last time. Was it because she knew Warrick was there and wouldn't let anything happen to her, or if… she didn't care anymore.

_That's ridiculous,_ Warrick thought.

Opening the passenger's-side door for her, he helped her get inside and then ran around to the driver's-side door. Part of him felt bad to even have to leave her unattended for the short period of time it took him to run around to his side of the car. This was ridiculous, he knew, but he wanted to protect Sara and nothing was going to get in the way of that. Working his job he had seen it all; murderers, rapists, muggers, you know name it and he had seen it. Warrick wasn't going to let Sara become a victim.

So if it made him seen like an over-protective presidential bodyguard, so be it.

Getting in and buckling himself in, Warrick turned the car on just in time to hear Sheryl Crow fill the speakers. He couldn't help but smile a little; he wasn't hearing Sheryl Crow's voice singing the song, he was hearing Sara's voice.

"You never took that out of your CD player?" Sara asked him with a smile.

"Oh, uh, no, I've been listening to it in the car so I don't forget how to play it," he told her with a smile. "And I didn't, so no worries," he winked.

Sara laughed. "I wasn't worried about that, I know you better than that," she told him.

Sara had this healing effect on Warrick, and he didn't know why it happened, but whenever she laughed he forgot all that ailed him and filled him with grief or other unpleasant feelings. Warrick regretted it sometimes and told her so, but always in a joking manner (one time she had laughed about a joke of Nick's in the break room and Warrick had forgotten to change out of his smelly CSI scrubs that reeked of decomposing flesh and bodily fluids). How could he be this serious in front of Sara? You just couldn't, Warrick thought. _No one_ could.

_Don't worry about it,_ Warrick told himself, _nothing's going to happen. You're thinking too much into things. You'll both be just fine. Protect her, no matter what…but don't ruin this night for her._ "We're here," Warrick announced with a smile as they arrived at the Midnight.

"Looks busy tonight," Sara observed, looking at all of the cars parked along the sidewalk.

"Yup," Warrick agreed, "Big crowd tonight," he smiled. "And I know you'll do just fine, because have the voice of an angel."

"Warrick, quit it…" Sara told him, feeling her cheeks flush red.

Warrick just laughed, patting her shoulder. "Come on, let's go inside and show these people how it's done, shall we?"

"Absolutely," Sara smiled.

Once they were both inside the furnace (this was what Warrick used to describe the place as it was always filled with cigarette smoke), Warrick and Sara both headed to the back of the building to get ready for their performance. As Sara was about to kneel down to set up all of the equipment, Warrick scooped her up into his arms by her waist, practically lifting her up over his head.

"_Warrick!"_ Sara laughed, saying his name the same way for about the third time now that night. She felt his hands creeping up her sides and she giggled. "Damn it, why did I tell you where I was ticklish?" she playfully teased.

"You didn't have to tell me," Warrick smiled, pressing his lips against her neck. "I already knew, girl. I've got magic hands."

"Warrick, stop!" Sara laughed, kicking her feet back and forth. "You're tickling me! Someone's going to hear!"

"Then let them hear…" Warrick smiled. As Sara continued to kick in his arms, he accidentally bit down on her neck, not even realizing it being in the middle of having so much fun.

"Ow!" Sara said, slowly raising a hand up to brush against her neck. "Are you a vampire now?" she asked with a laugh.

"Sorry!" Warrick apologized. "Didn't realize I did that," he smiled, kissing the section on her neck that was now a small red patch of skin.

Sara just laughed as he set her down. "Sure you didn't," she smiled, stepping up onto the stage and purposely swaying her hips back and forth for him. Knowing that he was watching her, she turned around and laughed as she noticed him staring at her with a raised eyebrow. "Don't get any ideas yet, Mr. Brown," Sara smiled, propping herself up on the big black piano in the middle of the stage.

"It's a little late for that," Warrick grinned, taking his place at the piano bench. Cracking his knuckles, he looked up at her, "So Ms. Sidle… shall we get to this? So that I can take you home?" he asked.

Sara shot him a look before a smile broke out onto her face and she just nodded, turning herself back around to face the audience as the curtains parted.

"Well I'll be damned," the bartender mumbled under his breath as he watched from behind the bar counter. "Kid's back up on stage. Well, good for you, honey."

"Mike," came Trey's voice. Walking over to the bar, he said, "Have you seen Sara yet?"

"Yeah, she's up on stage," Mike blinked, pointing up on stage. "I thought that was you playing the piano. Did things not work out between you two?" he asked, shooting him a taunting grin.

Trey's face quickly drained of color and he became deathly pale as he turned around to look up on stage. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he balled his hands into fists. "That bitch…" he muttered.

"Trey?" Mike asked. "Sorry to say this, but you're kind of in the way. There's a lot of customers here," he explained, motioning toward three men who were clawing their way to try and get in Trey's spot.

Without so much as a nod of the head Trey stormed off, feeling fumes of anger blow from his ears like steam escaping a train whistle. Almost knocking someone as he headed around the building toward the back, he listened to Sara and Warrick up on stage, shaking his head. He could do so much _better._ How _dare_ she pick someone else to perform with. He had _created_ her; he had given her the job, and she kicked him to the curb for someone else?

Walking around and passing his office door, Trey watched from the side, keeping himself hidden in the shadows which proved to be a hard task.

How _dare_ her.

How **_dare_** her!

Up on stage, Sara and Warrick were too lost in the moment to notice Mount Trey erupting just to the right of them and the stage. Warrick tried to stay focused on the piano but it was a bit difficult with Sara lying sprawled-out across the piano in front of him. Feeling sweat dripping from his brow, he looked up at Sara and shot her a look as his fingers continued to automatically seek out and strike the correct keys. Sara only smiled innocently at him as a response to his _'this isn't fair'_ glare.

When the performance was finally over, which seemed to be an excruciatingly long time for poor Warrick, he tried to get off stage as quickly as he could in his haste to get Sara home. He remembered her telling him that she was going to get him back. _Well, you got your revenge, Sara,_ Warrick thought to himself. _Boy did you…_

As soon as the audience's clapping seemed to die down because they were getting tired of slamming their hands together and feeling their skin begin to chafe because of it, Warrick and Sara headed off stage. "I have to go do something," Warrick told Sara. "Can you stay here for just a minute?"

"Sure," Sara told him, nodding. "Go ahead. I'm just going to be unhooking the equipment."

"Alright, I'll see you in a minute," Warrick told her, jogging off. Sara couldn't help but laugh.

"Hey Sara," came Trey's voice in a mere whisper.

Sara jumped, looking around for the source of the voice, and felt her heart sink deep into her gut when she saw Trey come out from his office, leaving the door cracked open. "…Hi," Sara barely managed to get out.

"Congratulations on the successful performance tonight," Trey told her, shooting her a fake smile. His eye was twitching in anger; he was _furious._

"Uh… thanks," Sara said, kneeling down and quickly unhooking the microphones. She wanted to get out of there as quickly as she could. God, she needed Warrick, where was he…? She was scared, and she was cold. His voice was making her shudder and the look on his face that he was giving her could break a mirror.

"Why don't you come in my office and celebrate?" Trey offered, taking one step toward her. Actually, it wasn't just a step. It was a giant step that quickly closed the space between the two of them and brought him dangerously and uncomfortably close to her.

"That's nice, but…" Sara swallowed, seeing his face quickly drop and his fake smile disappear. She tried to calm herself down even though it seemed a bit impossible at the moment, and told herself to choose her words carefully, "I need to get home. I have work tomorrow, and—"

"Nonsense!" Trey told her, grabbing her arm and yanking her to her feet. Sara winced as she felt his fingers hold onto her arm tightly, as if his muscles themselves were telling her that they weren't going to let her escape. "You can come in for a drink," he told her matter-of-factly and ushered her toward his office.

"I-I really can't!" Sara said, almost urgently now, trying to use her other arm to keep him from pushing her into his office.

"One drink," Trey whispered, abruptly shoving her inside and closing the door behind him. Sara almost tumbled to the floor and he silently clicked the lock from behind his back as he walked around his desk, taking a seat in his red-velvety chair. "Have a seat," he told her, motioning to the two chairs across from him.

Sara reluctantly obeyed, taking a seat in one of the chairs as he opened up one of the drawers of his desk and removed a bottle of champagne and two glasses. "I was going to have this with you last Friday. No, the Friday before last, you blew me off last week," he amended, as if to add insult to injury. "But you left."

"I'm sorry I didn't show up last week, I wasn't feeling well," Sara cautiously said.

"Well a call wouldn't have hurt, would it?" Trey asked, pouring both glasses, the anger evident in his voice. Sloppily pouring the first glass, he ignored the liquid dripping down the sides of the glass as he shoved it toward her. "But all is forgiven now. Let's just have a drink, shall we?" he asked, raising his own dripping glass.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to go," Sara said, quickly getting to her feet and turning toward the door. It seemed like he teleported and suddenly he was in front of her, pushing her back down into the chair by her shoulders.

"Who was up on stage with you tonight?" he asked her, sitting down across from her, his hand resting on her knee. "It wasn't me, because… well, obviously, I didn't come into the club until later."

"He's a friend," Sara said, slowly inching away from his hand for fear that it would start wandering, touching her places only Warrick could touch. "In fact, I wanted to tell you," she said, swallowing her fear and trying to act confident. "He's my new partner," she said bit harshly.

Trey's eyes immediately narrowed and he lunged forward like a tiger at its prey, grabbing a hold of her upper forearm. "What?" he hissed, his nails digging into her arm. "_I_ am your partner."

Sara winced, trying her hardest not to, but failing miserably.

"Tell me why this man is better than me, huh?" he asked her. "Why is that? I gave you this job, you bitch," he whispered.

And at this moment Sara knew she was in trouble. The word 'bitch' obviously had not been accidentally squeezed out of his mouth, he meant it.

"Can you please hurry?" Warrick asked, back at the bar. Drumming his fingers on the counter impatiently, he sighed as he looked down at the bartender who was on his knees looking for what he requested. "Sir… I need to get home," he said.

"I understand, Sir," Mike told him. "But this is going to take just a minute."

Warrick just sighed. _I just wanted a bottle of wine to surprise Sara._

"Tell me why!" Trey demanded of Sara, reminding her that they were still in his office and that she wasn't out of the woods yet.

"You… you were scaring me," Sara whispered, looking up at him with wide, fear-filled eyes. Damn it, she thought. Why did she say that? That wasn't going to make him any less angry, she knew, but it _was_ the truth.

"What…?" Trey asked, grabbing onto her other arm with his free hand. "I was _scaring_ you? What am I, the _Boogeyman?_" he practically screamed, shaking her back and forth.

"You were touching me!" Sara screamed back, never taking her eyes off of him for fear of what he would do. Why wasn't Warrick coming? Couldn't he hear her screaming? Obviously Sara had forgotten once again where they were.

"So?" Trey asked, not fazed the slightest. "You liked it, I know you did. I could see it in your eyes, you wanted me to touch you," he whispered, slowly raising his hand up to caress her cheek.

"Don't touch me!" Sara hissed, slapping his hand away. "I did _not _want you to touch me! Only Warrick can touch me!"

At that moment Sara Sidle knew that her fate was sealed.

"Warrick?" Trey incredulously asked. _"Warrick?"_

Sara stood up, slowly inching toward the door but keeping her eyes on Trey.

"Who the _hell_ is that!" he screamed, jumping to his feet the moment he noticed her trying to get away. When she tried to slap him again he grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to him so that he was up in her face. _"Who is he!"_ he repeated.

"Let go of me!" Sara screamed, trying to rip her arm away from him, but only succeeding in tightening his grip even more.

"You bitch," Trey hissed, "I'm—" And then something caught his attention. Normally Sara would've taken that opportunity to bolt for the door, but she wasn't able to because Trey was still holding onto her. What had caught his attention was something on _her._ "What is this…?" he whispered, grabbing a hold of her neck and brushing her hair out of the way. Noticing the now-pink patch of skin and the tiny imprints Warrick's teeth had left on her skin, he growled angrily. _"What the HELL is this!"_

Sara looked up at him helplessly, not doing anything for fear of what her actions would cause _him_ to do.

"Huh? You're not gonna answer me then, huh, is that it?" Trey whispered. "I know what this is, you fucking bitch!" he screamed, slapping her across the face without further warning.

Sara knew it was only a matter of moments before he was going to hit her, but when the back of his hand finally connected with her skin it was shocking. Her cheek felt like it was on fire, god it hurt!

"So did you too already get busy?" Trey asked. "Huh? Did he leave you a little love-bite? A souvenir?"

"At least he didn't try to rape me!" Sara screamed.

Trey froze. "What…? You thought I was going to _rape_ you?" he asked. Sara just stared at him, slowly inching toward a corner of the room in some feign hope that it was the safest. "You thought I was going to do _that?_ Huh? Is that what you want?" he screamed, grabbing her shoulders and slamming her against the wall. _"HUH?"_

"No, no that's not what I want," Sara whispered, now shaking with terror. _I want WARRICK!_

"Is that what you WANT?" Trey asked again, yanking her around and shoving her to the floor. As soon as her back made contact with the floor he jumped on top of her, growling as she tried to throw him off of her. "I'm just giving it to you like you want, so stop fighting me!" he yelled, putting both hands on her shoulders and shoving her back down on the ground.

"Don't," Sara whispered, "Please, don't!" Looking around the room, she noticed that he had turned the lock.

Oh god.

She was trapped.

"WARRICK!" Sara screamed as loud as she could as she heard a piece of material from her dress rip.

"Would you like a drink while you wait?" Mike asked Warrick. "On the house for making you wait so long."

"No thanks," Warrick sighed.

But then something caught his attention.

"…Did you hear something?"


	8. Save Me

**A/N: Thanks again to all who have been reading and/or reviewing!**

_Never look into their eyes._

Sara continued to silently chant this message as Trey tore off a large portion of her dress with an agonizing-sounding rip. She shuddered as a cold breeze brushed against the newly-exposed part of her legs, sending shivers up her spine that in turn brought a sickening wave of nausea. The last message she was able to utter was a desperate scream for Warrick; the sound had died in her throat along with any other hope she had left that she was going to get out of this.

She could feel Trey's legs crushing her sides as he straddled her waist unmercifully; one strong arm sprawled across her waist to hold her hips down and to stop her pitiful attempts of escape. The only sound in the room was the sound of Trey's ragged breathing as his hands traveled up and down Sara's body, touching, squeezing, caressing any skin they came in contact with.

"I never imagined how beautiful you would be," Trey growled, the anger still in his tone. "And you let _him_ have you?" he hissed, one of his hands creeping under the opening of her dress between her legs.

"Stop it," Sara finally managed to whisper, a tear descending down her cheek as she felt his hand slide up her stomach. Only Warrick could touch her like that. Warrick's touch was soft and loving and gentle, a touch that she craved almost more than anything else, and this bastard's touch was rough and demanding and cold. And the worst part of it, Sara knew, was that she couldn't do anything to stop him from tainting her body with his filthy hands.

"You don't mean that," Trey told her, "You want this…every second of it," he murmured, his hand slowly tracing across her stomach. "So shut up and enjoy it."

An angry tear fell down Sara's face as he towered over her and leaned down, pressing his body to hers. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and she let out an estranged cry as she was once again reminded of exactly what was going to happen to her. "Please don't do this," Sara whispered.

"Why…?" Trey asked. For a minute Sara felt relief swarm her body as his hands stopped in mid-grope until he was staring directly into her eyes, his gaze haunting. "This is what you want," he hissed. "I'm giving it to you _exactly_ the way you want it."

"I don't want you to, and I never have," Sara said in a tone much more confident than she actually was. She balled her hands that were pinned to her sides into fists so she would not start shaking as she met his gaze.

Trey looked down at her, hurt flashing in his eyes for a brief moment. "All those times I touched you…" he whispered, bringing his hand up and brushing it against her cheek. "All those times…" She shuddered as she felt his breath on her neck. "You were enjoying every minute of it…"'

"No I wasn't!" Sara said, jerking her body against his to try and buck him off of her. She wasn't sure what it was- the fact that he had temporarily stopped touching her or that what he was saying was lies, but she suddenly felt the need to fight grow stronger.

"Bitch," he hissed, immediately changing his mind and throwing his body down against hers, completely cutting off her ability to move as his weight suffocated her. "You want me," he whispered into her ear, "And now you're going to get me."

"No one wants you," Sara managed to whisper before she was able to stop herself. At that moment she cursed her stubbornness and knack for insulting and witty comebacks and remarks when smartass suspects set her off. But right now, this wasn't an interrogation, and that realization was more than anything Sara had ever bargained for. She wasn't sitting at the cold steel table across from a suspect with a uniform in the room by the door and Brass by her side. She was alone with this… monster, and she was the victim.

Only Warrick could save her from becoming a victim.

Opening her mouth to yell, Sara practically gagged as Trey took full advantage and forcefully pressed his mouth to hers, shoving his tongue deep inside her mouth as his hands began to move again. She tried to push him off of her as best she could but he only held onto her even tighter, his long skinny pianist fingers wrapping completely around her tiny wrists. When he moved away the only thing she was able to let out was a strangled cry of "War—" before his mouth claimed hers against roughly.

_Save me, Warrick,_ Sara thought to herself as she shut her eyes in attempt to detach herself from what she was currently being put through but mentally and physically. But she _couldn't_, she realized, she _couldn't_ stop herself from fearing the inevitable, she _couldn't _stop herself from feeling his hands on her body. She couldn't… because she wasn't strong enough. She couldn't do it without Warrick.

She felt Trey's hands push her back down onto the ground as she tried to escape once again, her head snapping back violently as brown hair rained down upon her face. Reaching down with his hand, Trey brushed her hair out of her eyes almost tenderly as he gazed into her terrified eyes. Brushing his hand against her cheek he smiled down at her before he caught another glimpse of the mark Warrick had left on her skin earlier that night, the mark Sara coveted among most anything else.

He growled angrily and Sara could see the hatred in his eyes once more as he looked at her, his lips curled over his teeth in a snarl. "You let him mark you," he hissed, _"Why?"_ he demanded of her, his booming voice echoing throughout the office.

"Because I love him," Sara whispered, returning his unwavering gaze in defiance.

He growled again, grasping her neck with his two large hands. "Don't you dare…" he whispered, "Don't you _dare_ say that!"

Sara realized that she would probably get into even more trouble than she was already in if she said it again, but she loved Warrick more than anything or anyone else in the world, and she was not going to lie about that. Warrick was her entire life, and without him she knew she would slowly wither away and die like a flower desperate for water. She wouldn't only be lying to herself if she didn't say she loved Warrick, she would be lying to Warrick himself. And she was not prepared to do that.

"I love Warrick," Sara whispered again, the determination and passion she had for him evident in her eyes.

And Sara pulled the trigger and set off the gun that was Trey's wrath. Before she was able to comprehend what was happening he had slapped her across the face once more, her head snapping to her left as she felt him tugging at her clothes. She felt the sinking sensation in her stomach present again that had seemed to disappear for a few moments before and truly realized what sort of situation she was in.

But this wasn't right. Only Warrick could see her this way.

Sara felt another tear run down her face as she heard a zipper being undone, bracing herself for his entry, for the burning, agonizing pain that was rape. But she didn't realize that the sound was coming from her own dress until Trey had begun tugging it down her shoulders. As she felt another cold burst of air brush against the now-exposed parts of her body she felt adrenaline surge through her offering one last burst of energy, her last attempt at escaping him.

But you couldn't always escape the Boogeyman.

Trey had her thighs in his hands and they slowly slid up, touching her in the one place she was dreading the most. More tears fell down her face as she was helpless to stop him from hurting her, shuddering at the feeling of his hands against her. Tears blurred her vision as she felt him slide her underwear down her legs to her ankles, the fabric leaving a burning sensation along her calves, the sting of fear shooting throughout her entire body.

As a river of tears flooded her eyes and descended down her cheeks Sara let out one final cry as she felt his finger violently, brutally tear its way inside of her.

"I'm sorry about the wait, Sir," the bartender told Warrick, handing him the chilled bottle of wine he had asked for over thirty minutes ago. "On the house," he told him, shooting him a small smile that betrayed the disappointment of not getting a tip that he was actually feeling.

"Thanks," Warrick said, a smile once again gracing his lips. Despite the amount of time it actually took to get the bottle he now held in his hands, he felt it was well worth the wait. All he could think about was the look on Sara's face as he scooped her up into his arms from behind, already hearing her teasing remarks she would give him as he carried her out of the club.

With a smile Warrick headed to the back of the club where Sara had been unhooking the equipment from the performance, every now and then dodging the swaying drunks that proved to be obstacles on his way toward Sara. It was like the light at the end of the tunnel for Warrick whenever he saw Sara; she was his light. She was his everything. She was a goddess, a beautifully perfect descendent of God that had chosen him.

Warrick wanted nothing else but to spoil Sara silly for the entire weekend. If she wanted something at 3 am in the morning, he would run out to every grocery store in town until he found it. He loved her more than anything else and he wanted to show her exactly how grateful he was for her being in his life.

Humming a cheerful tune to himself, Warrick headed over to the back of the club with a grin on his face. "Hey Sara…" he teased, poking his head around the corner. He frowned when he saw that she wasn't in the same place she had been when he had left her. A small smile crept its way around the corners of his mouth as he assumed she was hiding. "Come on, Sara… don't make me beg…" he said, looking down at the outlets she had been kneeled down in front of before.

They weren't all unplugged.

Warrick frowned, swallowing hard as a wave of panic began to wash over him. "Sara?" he asked, looking around, almost forgetting about the bottle of wine in his hands. "Sara?" he asked a bit louder, his voice growing louder than the music blaring from the speakers just to the right of him.

Then he spotted the door just in front of him. He thought he heard something coming from inside… voices. Putting his ear against the door, his eyes widened when he heard sobbing.

Sara's sobs.

The bottle of wine in his hands dropped to the floor, shattering into pieces onto the ground as he heard her whimpers and cries coming from the closed door in front of him.

"SARA!" Warrick yelled, pounding on the door with his fists, cursing himself for leaving her alone. Goddamn it, _why_ had he left her alone?

"Warrick," he heard her whisper from inside, "Warrick, help me, please."

Without another thought Warrick backed up and kicked the door open which practically flew off its hinges as he stormed inside. The sight of Sara on the floor in tears made him almost lose it right then and there. A pained expression etched on her face was all the other motivation Warrick needed to pummel the man who was sitting on top of her.

Pure rage filled Warrick's eyes as he shoved the man who was still continuing his assault on the woman he loved off of her, watching as he tumbled to the floor. Before he was able to even look at Warrick he had straddled his waist and was punching the man in the face with his fists.

But before he was able to knock the man into unconsciousness, Warrick felt a light tugging on his sleeve. Turning around with a scowl on his face and hatred and anger in his eyes, Warrick's eyes and features immediately softened as he noticed that it was Sara, her tear-stained eyes almost pleading with him. She looked so weak, and when she moved to crawl toward him she tumbled over.

Warrick immediately engulfed her in his arms, scooping her up into his lap and wrapping his arms tightly and protectively around her. Kissing the top of her head, the only sounds that filled the room were Sara's pained sobs. "I'm so sorry, Sara," Warrick whispered, gently rubbing her back, "I'm so, so sorry…"

The shattered bottle of wine in the doorway lay broken and forgotten as the liquid poured into the room, becoming mixed with Sara's tears.


	9. Sins

**A/N: Thanks again to all who reviewed! Sorry for the delay in updating- I went on vacation for about two weeks. I also meant to comment about icklebitodd's review- ah, you caught me! I grew up with Elton John. And you just gave me an idea ;)**

Her entire body ached… why did it hurt so much to move? All Sara could focus on was the pain she was feeling- for a second or two she forgot all about how she got these injuries. All she could focus on was the pain and fear she felt…and how good the warmth emanating from the two strong arms around her felt.

Then she remembered and the clod of pain that had been fogging her mind evaporated. This was _his_ scent, and that was all she needed before she broke down into more gut-wracking sobs. It hurt… god it hurt, and all she wanted was for him to take the pain away. Her hands squeezed his shirt collar painfully as she cried into his chest, her tears staining his white dress shirt.

"Sara…" he finally whispered. "It's okay…" But that was a lie and he knew it. Nothing was okay. Not anymore. Not only had he left the most important person in his life alone in a dangerous place- the place he _swore_ she would never go back to, nonetheless- because he was too busy worrying about some godforsaken wine, the bastard who had caused Sara so much pain was too close. Too close to both of them. Even Warrick wanted him out of his sight; the mere glimpse of a human being this repulsive made his stomach turn with nausea and his knuckles turn white with pent-up anger and revulsion.

And the realization that Warrick had _let_ this happen to Sara was more painful than anything he had ever felt before in his life. There she was- there _Sara _was- this perfect, beautiful creature who had graced him with her presence for all this time, who had graced him with her _love_ for all this time, and he let this happen to her. He wasn't a man; he wasn't even a person anymore. He was pathetic, and she didn't deserve to hurt anymore.

But this wasn't time for the Warrick Brown pity party, he knew… but if he could just—

"Warrick," Sara whispered, speaking for the first time in what seemed like hours. This one word took more effort to ground out through Sara's mottle of emotions than holding back her tears. She was letting them flow freely now; they were coming and she couldn't stop them. She wasn't sure if she even _wanted_ them to stop anymore.

"What is it, Sara?" Warrick whispered back, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. He had to keep it together for Sara; he had to be strong for her.

"C-Can…" She bit her lip in frustration that she couldn't even say what she wanted to without sounding terrified. But the truth was that she _was_ still terrified. But not only terrified… there was the overwhelming sense of disgust that she felt, both with Trey and herself. And there was the horrific realization that _this_ had happened to her. It wasn't just a nightmare anymore. It was reality. "Can… we leave…?" she finally managed to whisper.

Idiot. He was a total idiot, Warrick thought. How was he supposed to take care of Sara if he couldn't protect her, let alone know to take her away from the man who had hurt her the most? No, he then thought, _this_ man, standing right in front of her, had hurt her the most. "Of course, Sara," Warrick managed to reply. Shifting Sara in his arms, he got to his feet and started to carry her out of the room, his arms linked protectively around her waist.

He could feel her shaking in his arms, her cold, clammy skin shivering under his fingertips. Removing his jacket, Warrick carefully wrapped it around Sara's shoulders in vain hope that somehow this 50 silk and cotton piece of clothing would take away her pain. How could someone dare lay a finger on this person with intention to harm her? Warrick didn't understand, and all he wanted was to make the person who had suffer.

Then he heard it- a groan coming from the far corner of the room which at this moment was the deepest, darkest corner of Hell. Warrick tightened his hold on Sara as he realized they were still standing in the doorway. He was here now, and he wasn't going to let anyone hurt her ever again. Without so much as a turn of the head Warrick fixated his faze on the swaying figure as they got to their feet.

And there standing in the room in front of Warrick was the man responsible for causing Sara so much pain. Warrick completely forgot about himself; _this_ man, standing right in front of him was the devil himself. Warrick's eyes narrowed with a hatred and anger never before seen upon his face. He couldn't protect her before… but at least now he could make sure this man never harmed anyone ever again. Now he could do the right thing.

About to take a step forward, something shimmered in the light and caught Warrick's attention from the corner of his eye. That was when Warrick saw it- a gun. Redemption. Sweet, _sweet_ redemption.

All the bells and alarms in Warrick's mind were going off now, but Warrick did not hear them. He lost all traces of reality and what was rational and what was not as he stared into the metal barrel. Was that gun even there before? It were almost as if Warrick's mind was trying to stall him for time to make him realize exactly what he was doing… or was _about _to do. Rational or not, Warrick didn't seem to care.

He felt like he left his body completely; he suddenly felt very light, like he was floating above it all just observing like some celestial force above. He watched as he threw one more disgusted glance at the disoriented figure in front of him and then reached for the gun. With his free hand he grabbed it between his fingers, feeling the leather grip mold to his hand in gruff confidence. The metal barrel stared straight ahead at its target, its gaze- no, glare- unwavering. All it took was one shot. One shot…

Hearing approaching footsteps behind him, Warrick quickly slid the gun into his pants pocket, his eyes widening as he realized what he almost just did. Turning back around, Warrick squeezed Sara in his arms, getting ready to protect her from whatever or whoever it was that was walking toward them if they posed a threat. Then he noticed two uniforms running up to him, both with their hands on their holsters positioned on their hips.

"We got a call," the younger of the two said, looking from Sara, to Warrick, to Trey who had now collapsed on the floor. "Someone said they heard screaming," he explained, "What's going on around here?"

"I'm with the crime lab," Warrick immediately said, throwing a glance at Sara from the bottom corner of his eye. She was still laying in a silent huddle against his chest, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if protecting herself from the unwanted gazes of others. _Its okay, Sara,_ Warrick thought, _just don't look at them…_ With his other hand Warrick reached into his pocket and flashed his badge as confirmation for the two cops. Putting it back into his pocket, Warrick felt the cold steel of the barrel of the gun under his sweaty palm. It only took one shot…

"Is anyone hurt?" the second cop asked, the veteran of the two judging by his age. Throwing a suspicious glance at Sara, the man looked back up at Warrick.

Strike three, that was the third time he had done something stupid tonight and Warrick doubted it would be the last. Because bases were loaded, and he had just struck out. So caught up in getting revenge, Warrick had neglected the one he was getting it _for._ "We're going to need an ambulance," Warrick dumbly said, holding Sara tightly to his chest, as if shielding her from the cop's eyes. _And don't you dare stare at her…_

"No," Sara finally spoke up. All she wanted was to go home and take the longest, most painful shower of her entire life. She didn't want to wait in a hospital for some strangers to touch her and shake their heads in pity and click their tongues in frustration with her stubborn attitude. What happened to her didn't even qualify as rape, let alone a reason to be taken to the hospital… right?

And then Sara wondered if this was some sort of karmic lesson; justice for Pamela Adler, the rape victim she couldn't help. Because what happened to her most definitely _was _rape… and everyone knew it. Sara knew it as she took samples from her prone body, she knew it the second she looked at her broken form laying motionless on the white hospital bed…and Sara was unable to get the one responsible for it for the time they deserved to serve- what was 48 months in a juvenile detention center? It was an eternity for Pamela Adler. And Sara.

Was this justice for what _she_ had put that innocent woman through? _Sara _had been the stranger touching her and getting samples, _she_ was the one. Was she any better than the perpetrator himself?

"Sara…" Warrick started, not noticing the tears falling down her face until she turned and looked at him. "Hey…" he whispered, reaching over and brushing away her tears with his fingertips. "Okay… it's okay," he whispered. It _was_ her choice… and if Sara didn't want to go to the hospital, Warrick wasn't going to push the issue any further than he already had… and he wasn't going to force her to do something that ultimately caused her more pain… and so far that was what all of his mistakes had done. Well he wasn't going to do that anymore.

"I… just want to go home," Sara whispered. _She couldn't go home. You don't deserve to go home. You don't deserve Warrick, either. But you deserve what HE did to you._ Each thought shooting daggers into her heart, Sara squeezed her eyes tightly shut in hopes it would stop more tears from spilling over, when in reality it just made them rebel against her closed eyelids even more.

"Okay," Warrick told her, gently planting a kiss on the top of her head. "Okay, I'll take you home," he whispered, pushing past both puzzled uniforms in order to exit the room. Warrick didn't know what he was going to do exactly when he got Sara home… but he was going to try his best to make her feel comfortable again- to make her feel _safe_ again… and to help take away her fear.

Stepping through the doorway, Warrick heard a loud crunch coming from the ground and he lifted up his shoe, sighing as he thought he had squished a bug. _You're destroying everything. _But it wasn't a bug; it was the glass from the wine bottle he had spent almost an hour trying to get from the bar in order to surprise Sara. The wine bottle he had wasted time getting while she was _suffering._

Warrick swallowed down the bile that was forming in his throat as he tried to walk away merely brushing it aside… but it wasn't working.

Walking both Sara and himself past the large crowd of people in front of him that seemed to automatically move out of his way, like he were Moses parting the seas, Warrick tried to ignore all the 'What's going on?'s' and 'is she okay's' coming from the crowd of people. _Just ignore them, Sara…_ he wanted to say. _Just ignore them all…_ But the truth was Warrick knew that everyone was staring at her like a caged animal, that everyone was going to home tonight, bursting through their front doors barely able to contain themselves as they screamed, "Honey, you will not _believe_ what I saw tonight!"

But this made Warrick realize that maybe not going to the hospital was a good idea. If he took her the hospital… then Sara would become a victim and a name on a file. She would become 'that Sidle woman in room 38B' and nothing else… and Sara didn't need that. She didn't deserve _any_ of this.

About to walk straight out of the club, Warrick stopped reluctantly when he felt a stubborn tugging on his shirt sleeve. Turning around, the bartender and club manager were staring at him wide-eyed, the manager's eyes somewhat larger from his glasses magnifying his pupils. "Sir, what's going on?" the bartender was the first to speak. "Is she alright?" he asked, motioning toward Sara.

"She be one of my best dern performers," the club manager spoke up, taking out his handkerchief- by which the looks of it had been washed last god knows when- and blowing his nose with a loud snort. "Ya can't just expect to take 'er outta 'ere like that, Son! Don't go all willy-nilly on me!"

Sara let out a whimper the second the bartender started talking. Why had Warrick stopped? Why didn't he keep walking? They were staring at her like she was… like she was a _victim._

Warrick narrowed his eyes the moment he heard Sara's whimper, followed by the club manager's bad stuffy-nosed southern drawl. "You know what?" he hissed, "She's not just a 'she' or a 'performer'," he growled, "_She_ has a name. And I love her," he said firmly, "So why don't you go find someone else to be one of your dogs you keep on a leash? Because Sara's never coming back here again," he said harshly, storming past them and throwing the rather flimsy door open, almost blowing it clear off its hinges as he walked out of the club.

_I'm sorry, Pam,_ Sara thought, laying flat against Warrick's chest and shivering a little as the cold night air hit her skin despite Warrick's jacket wrapped around her. Her eyes remained closed as she realized just exactly what that woman had to go through. Up until now to Sara it had just been a nightmare that had haunted her for the past few months, something she would pop a few pills every night to get rid of. But now Sara was living it… the nightmare had become reality.

And a few pills weren't going to make that change.


	10. Her Pain Is His Pain

**A/N: Thanks again to all who have been reading and reviewing. Your support really means a lot! The idea for this chapter actually was a suggestion from my good friend Zan1781, so this chapter is for them!**

_God, why did this have to happen to her?_ Warrick thought, staring at the cold hardwood floors of Sara's apartment with his head hung low. His hands were entwined together between his legs as he let out a long, tired sigh. He had kicked off his shoes a long time ago, unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt in order to try and calm himself down. He couldn't relax; his hands were shaking, and even though the a/c and heating unit was gathering dust from lack of use, it felt like the heater was on full-blast.

But it wasn't about him, it really wasn't… and the fact that he couldn't compose himself for Sara was just making him even angrier at himself.

Letting out another sigh, Warrick sat up and leaned back against the comforter in the living room, slipping his eyes closed. He wouldn't be able to sleep, but if he could just relax… find some way to calm himself and his mind then he might be of some use to Sara.

He flinched as he heard a whimper coming from the bedroom down the hall. The sound wasn't new to him… but it caught him off-guard, and just the knowledge that it was her voice brought tears springing to his eyes. Immediately getting to his feet, Warrick headed down the dark hallway, mentally cursing as he realized he had forgotten to turn on anymore lights. It certainly wasn't doing anything to help lighten the mood.

"Sara…?" Warrick softly asked, almost in a whisper as he approached the bedroom door. He had sped to her apartment from the club that night, ignoring every stop sign and stoplight that came into view. He just wanted to get her home- she said she wanted to go home, and so he was going to take her home. He had carried her the entire way and set her down in her bedroom once they were inside. He had asked her if she wanted him to stay with her but she had grown silent… deathly silent.

And that silence absolutely horrified him. And Mr. Warrick Brown was not a timid man.

Hearing another sniffle and choked cry coming from inside the room, he swallowed hard, finally cracking the door open slowly and carefully so as not to alarm Sara inside. He knew that was the last thing she needed right now. Making a small crack in the doorway allowing him a peek into the room, all he saw were some clothes thrown into the corner of the room, the clothes she wore that night no doubt. She had changed her clothes, he thought, but he couldn't blame her. Who wouldn't?

Poking his head into the room, the sight Warrick saw made his heart break. There she was in a clump under the blankets, her small frame wracking with sobs underneath the blankets, as if she wanted to hide herself from the rest of the world because she was _ashamed_. She made no acknowledgement that he was there, and as if in some feign hope that maybe she hadn't heard him the first time, Warrick asked again, "Sara…?"

The sobs continued, but seemed to die down just a little… just a little…

"Sara…" Warrick whispered. His voice had become soft, almost non-existent. He slowly made his way to the other side of the bed currently unoccupied. Approaching almost cautiously he sat down on the side of the bed just to make sure she would allow him to do so. When she made no movement he slowly crawled onto the bed until he was sitting Indian style next to the pile of blankets covering the woman he loved. "Sara, girl, talk to me…" he whispered, slowly extending a hand out to her.

Before he could even touch her, Sara had beat him to it, her hand snaking out from underneath the blanket and snatching his. She squeezed it as tight as she could as she seemed to just start crying even harder.

"Hey, Sara, it's okay," Warrick whispered, squeezing her hand back as a form of reassurance. Reassurance? _Reassurance?_ Warrick incredulously thought. Why had he come in here? It wasn't like handing her a small box of Puffs and a pint of Ben & Jerry's was going to help her. She squeezed his hand again.

No. No, he had come in here because he loved her, and he was going to help her heal, one way or the other.

"Here…" Warrick whispered, reaching over and pulling the blankets down from her body. She was now plaid in pajama pants and a gray tank top, looking to be her usual night attire. Her cheeks were tear-stained and he reached out and tenderly brushed the tears from her eyes with his thumbs, gently rubbing her cheek as he did so. "It's okay," he whispered, gazing into her eyes. Warrick recalled his grandmother once telling him that the eyes were the gateway to the soul. All Warrick saw when he looked into Sara's eyes was emptiness… a broken person.

Sara reached up and grabbed his hand with hers, trying to keep her eyes focused on Warrick's face, trying to keep her mind focused on his voice, trying to keep herself sane. The lower bottom half of her body felt absolutely disgusting, hell all of her body did… but that more-so only because it was the one sure place she knew he had been able to touch.

Oh god, she could see his face and it was repulsive… his eyes were hideous but haunting and—

"Hey," Warrick whispered again, freeing her from her trance. He noted the sweat forming on her forehead so he could only imagine what it was that was causing it. What was going through her mind? Sara was now looking at her, but her body was shaking.

_I'm cold, why can't I get warm?_ Sara thought to herself. She had spent the entire night trying to get warm unsuccessfully. Finally she had just given up- it was too frustrating and she had too much anger and disgust at the moment to do much about it. Her hand sprung to her shoulders and she began rubbing feebly at her arms to try and warm herself up.

"How about this," Warrick whispered. And before she could do or say anything to stop him or tell him otherwise Warrick had wrapped his arms tightly around her body, drawing her to him until their bodies were touching each other. Sara slumped further into his arms, her muscles slowly relaxing into his warmth. Resting his head just above hers, Warrick slowly pried her hands away from her arms until they were resting in her lap. Her entire body felt cold…

"Warrick," Sara finally whispered.

"What is it, Sara?" Warrick whispered back. Finally, she had spoken.

"…I want to take a bath," Sara whispered. Longest, most painful grueling shower, here she came.

Warrick immediately froze. He wasn't even thinking about it before, but that was because he was in human mode, not CSI mode. He didn't want to admit it… not even to himself, and especially not to Sara, but a crime had still been committed tonight… and the evidence was on Sara. He loved Sara and he didn't want to have to cause her even more heartache, but he was not willing to let the bastard responsible for it in the first place go off scot-free.

"You can't, Sara," Warrick quietly told her, "At least not yet… there's still… evidence," he whispered, not even wanting to say the word. "We need to have someone process you…"

The truth was that Sara knew, she was just hoping Warrick had forgotten. But of course he wouldn't, and she knew that too, she really, really did… she just didn't want to admit it to herself. She knew she was going to have to be processed just like all the other rape victims if she wanted Trey to get what he deserved, but she didn't _want_ to.

_Do you think she wanted to? _Sara bitterly thought to herself. _Of course she didn't, but you still did it. It was your job. So why can't you let someone else do theirs?_

She was shaking again, and Warrick noticed that. "Shh… shh, Sara, it's okay," Warrick whispered, just holding her even tighter in hopes of making her body stop. "It's okay…" _but it's not._

"I don't want to, Warrick," Sara finally told him, her voice breaking under the pressure of all the emotions she was holding in. Finally she just let it out and started to sob again, moving into Warrick's lap.

Warrick just nodded slowly, gently rubbing her back with his hand. He hated to see her cry… but he knew right now it was probably the best thing for her. She needed to cope. "Sara, listen to me, okay?" he quietly asked her. "I know you don't want to… but you can do this. I know you can… you're a strong person."

"No I'm not," Sara sobbed, "I'm not, Warrick! Look at me, I can't stop crying and she's in a coma!"

"Who, Sara?" Warrick asked, still rubbing her back, feeling her tense muscles underneath his fingertips.

"Pam!" Sara squeaked, "Pamela Adler!"

Warrick's eyes widened as he realized who she was talking about. He had heard about that case… and it sounded like a bad one. He just hadn't realized Sara had been assigned to it. He and Catherine had had a deadline to meet until the DA was at their door so he had been so preoccupied with his own case… he had failed to realize that Sara was suffering. "Sara, that wasn't your fault," Warrick told her.

"Warrick, the kid's getting out in 48 months and it's all my fault," Sara whispered, her breaths coming out short and quick against his chest. "If only I—"

"Shh," Warrick whispered again, lifting her up into his arms, "Just take a deep breath… it wasn't your fault, Sara…"

"But Warrick, she's—"

"Shh," Warrick whispered again, resting his head against hers, "its okay… shh, it's all going to be okay…"

After a few moments of silence, Sara had managed to find her breath again. Resting her head against his chest, she had calmed down considerably, he himself calming enough. "That kid… Warrick, he was a kid but he still killed her…"

"I know, Sara," Warrick whispered, "But you did all you could…"

"But that wasn't enough," Sara persisted, "I know, you know it, and her husband knows it. She's… she's in a vegetative state, and I couldn't put the person who was responsible for it away for the time he deserves to serve. She's just going to sit there," Sara whispered, "The husband doesn't get it, and he won't pull the plug, he can't… he doesn't realize it…" she whispered.

Warrick continued to rub her back, just letting her talk.

"He won't pull the plug, and the nurses are just going to make her room look pretty and make sure all the dead flowers get thrown out," Sara continued, "She doesn't deserve that, Warrick…"

"But neither do you," Warrick spoke up. "She wouldn't want you to suffer either, Sara… you helped her."

Sara couldn't stop herself from laughing. "How did I help her, Warrick? By gathering a sexual assault kit from her body when she couldn't say yes or no?"

"Yes, Sara," Warrick told her, "You got the guy. _You_ did. That evidence you collected got the guy," he whispered, "You did a good job, and you got the guy responsible."

After a few moments of inwardly arguing with herself about this, Sara finally nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath and letting it out shakily. "Okay," she whispered.

"Good," Warrick whispered. "But Sara, in order to get Trey they're going to need this evidence, too," he whispered. He hated to have to tell her she was a piece of evidence, though he wasn't exactly saying those exact words. He knew she knew what he meant.

"…But Warrick, I really don't want to," Sara whispered. "I… I want to get the bastard, I really do…" she told him, looking up at him for a minute. He smiled just a little at that little demonstration of Sara Sidle-attitude coming back into the picture. "…But I don't want to have to do that…" she whispered. "I'm not a vegetable, and I'm saying no."

About to give up, a thought struck Warrick. He had the badge. He had the certification. He had the LVPD crime lab sticker in his car window. "…What if I did it, instead?" Warrick asked her.

That made Sara turn her head and look over at him again. Warrick wasn't a nurse or a doctor looking like mad scientists hovering over their test subjects, he was someone who loved her. And someone she loved.

"Okay," Sara whispered.

He was caught off-guard just a little by Sara's will to cooperate but he nodded. "Okay," he whispered. Now came the hard part. "…I'm just going to set you back down on the bed and go get my kit, okay…?" he asked her. _Kit… Sara… Sara… kit…_ He hated the combination of words. This was the part every person working in this line of work dreaded the most, but Warrick had never had to do this before. He couldn't imagine how Sara and even Catherine were able to handle to do such a thing. The thought of it made his stomach turn.

Especially because this time the victim was Sara.

"Okay," Sara finally whispered. She could sense this was going to be hard for Warrick… but now at the same time she was working on trying to calm herself down again. But it was just Warrick, so she shouldn't be nervous or scared, she thought… but she was.

Warrick slowly almost deliberately set Sara down on the bed and got to his feet, heading down the hallway out of the bedroom as if he were heading down the road to death row. He loved Sara and none of this was his fault… but his heart had just been broken and stomped on. Not only did he see the one person he loved most in this world broken and crying tonight, but he was going to have to do… _this._

Running a shaky hand through his hair, Warrick walked outside and fumbled with his car keys for a moment, cursing as he tried to force his hands to stop shaking. Finally finding the right key he unlocked the trunk of his car and reached inside, retrieving his crime-scene kit. The cold metal box was _grinning_ at him, like that Stephen King novel.

Slamming the trunk of his car, Warrick walked off, heading back into the apartment. _This is the least you can do, you couldn't protect her._ Frustrated almost to tears was an understatement for what Warrick Brown was experiencing emotionally at the moment. But there were so many more emotions than that: anger, hatred, disgust, love, concern, worry, fear. There were too many to list, and it was intimidating. Warrick Brown had never had to deal with so many emotions in his entire life.

Walking back into the bedroom, Warrick looked up to see Sara sitting in the middle of the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest, probably in attempt to keep herself warm. Swallowing hard, Warrick set his kit down at the foot of the bed, moving some books off of a foot stool before pulling it up to the bed and taking a seat. "Are you okay?" Warrick whispered, looking over at her for a moment. She still looked scared… now a little more than ever.

"Uh-huh," Sara simply nodded like a robot.

"Okay," Warrick whispered. He wasn't satisfied with her answer but he wasn't going to push the issue. Leaning down and clicking the ends of the box, Warrick opened the lid of his kit and took out a pair of gloves and a small cardboard box, setting it aside on the bed. Just as he was getting his first glove on he noticed where Sara's gaze was directed, and though the cardboard box was bland and plain the big red text on it stated clearly what it was for. "Don't look at it, okay?" Warrick whispered. "Just lay down…"

Sara reluctantly obeyed, lying down flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling. She didn't want to watch this.

When both gloves were on his hands, Warrick took a deep breath to compose himself before reaching over and taking the SART kit into his hands, opening it up in order to get the things he needed. He would start with fingernail scrapings, then hair, then trace… and wait to do the hardest part last. He wanted to put that part off as long as possible.

Moving the stool with him, Warrick sat down next to the left side of the bed, bindle and scraper in-hand. Reaching over and gently taking Sara's hand from her side, he braved a glance at her face, noting that she was staring directly at the ceiling and only the ceiling. He couldn't blame her.

After getting what he could from under her nails on both hands, Warrick stored that in a safe place. He hated what he had to do but he wasn't going to lose the evidence now. Grabbing a small plastic comb and a white piece of paper Sara had pointed out to him from off one of her journals, he began to comb out her hair smoothly albeit a few tangles from the events of the night. He thought it to be a tender almost romantic gesture if it weren't for the crime-scene and SART kits lying feet away from the two.

After doing so and making up excuses to do whatever it was he did next in order to prolong the final task, Warrick frowned a little when he realized he was going to need Sara to change clothes. They could get evidence off the clothes she wore to the club… but she hadn't taken a bath, so there was possible transfer on the clothes she changed into. "Sara, I'm going to need your clothes," Warrick quietly told her, "…There could be possible transfer on them…"

Sara nodded stiffly though she wasn't too keen of the thought of giving her favorite pajamas up for evidence in general. And the reason why definitely didn't help.

"How about you give me the clothes when you're done?" Warrick asked her, sitting back down at the end of the bed. He knew she was cold and he didn't want to make her even colder if it wasn't necessary. That could wait. "And then I'll make you a mug of hot chocolate," he added, "And you can throw marshmallows at me." He was rewarded with a small smile from Sara lying on the bed and she simply nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good to me, too," Warrick told her with a smile as he leaned down to get the SART kit. If he could preoccupy her with other things while he was doing this, that might make it easier for her.

Setting the kit back down on the bed, Warrick stood up and slowly moved his hands down to hover above Sara's legs. "I'm just going to take these off, okay?" he asked her. When she nodded he moved his hands under the waistband, but didn't take them off just yet. "I like these pajamas, though," he told her, rubbing the fabric in between his fingertips. "I didn't know you were an Eeyore kind of woman," he told her with a small grin, holding the Winnie the Pooh character-plaid pajama pants up for inspection once they were finally off.

Sara couldn't help it, she laughed. "I've had them since college," she told him.

"Yeah, they sure look like it," he told her with a smile, poking his index finger through a hole in the side.

"Hey, I told you I preferred pajamas over nightgowns," Sara said to her defense.

"Obviously not enough to buy some new ones," Warrick laughed, setting them down in an evidence bag.

"They're my favorites!" Sara insisted. "What was I to do? And the last time I walked through a clothing store some kid walked up to me and asked me if I was looking for the lingerie department."

"I wouldn't have minded seeing that," Warrick told her with a smile, looking up at her as he reached for the SART kit. _Just don't think about it, Sara, you're doing well._

"I'm sure you wouldn't have," Sara told him, her smile slowly fading once she realized what he was going to have to do next.

Re-opening the box, Warrick took out his swabs, debating on whether or not to actually do his job or throw them in the trash and call it quits. But he had to do this for Sara. "Are you ready, Sara?" he whispered.

Sara nodded slowly, feeling around for his hand. He immediately moved it into hers, giving it a squeeze to let her know he was there… she wasn't in a hospital room alone, he was there with her… she wasn't going to have to do this alone. Her pain was his pain.

"Hold onto it as tight as you want to," Warrick whispered to her. "And right now, I just need you to prop your legs up, okay…? Just move them up and bend your knee…" This was embarrassing her, and he knew it. Warrick didn't think Sara should be embarrassed around him, but… he could sense that she was. It was awkward and uncomfortable, even if it was Warrick.

After Sara had done what Warrick asked, and her grip on his hand tightened considerably, Warrick sat back down at the end of the bed, getting the swab ready…

"Warrick," Sara quickly said.

Warrick immediately stilled his hand from motion. "What is it, Sara…?" he asked her.

Sara blinked back the tears that were forming in her eyes as she bit the inside of her bottom lip, willing herself to not start crying. "Be… gentle, okay…?" she whispered.

"Always, Sara," Warrick told her, rubbing her hand with his thumb. And then as an afterthought, he removed his glove on that hand and moved it back into hers. "Always," he whispered. "…Are you ready?" he then asked. Sara simply nodded. _Am I?_ "I'll stop if you tell me to Sara, okay? You just have to say the word," Warrick told her, "And I'm with you, I am," he squeezed her hand.

"Okay," Sara whispered, squeezing his hand back. "Okay."

Taking a deep breath to not only try and calm Sara but himself Warrick took the swab in-hand again and began his task.

After some painstakingly long moments Warrick realized he was crying. He couldn't hold it in any longer, and he definitely wasn't going to be able to stop now that he had started. Braving another look at Sara's face, Warrick choked back a sob as he noticed the tears running down her own face. "Hey girl, it's almost over," Warrick whispered, rubbing her palm with his thumb, "You're doing really good Sara, it's almost done."

Sara nodded slowly, before looking over at Warrick. "You're crying," she whispered.

Warrick just nodded, finally finishing up the swabs. "Yeah," he whispered, nodding his head a little, "Yeah, I am."

Once Sara knew he was done she got up and lunged into his arms, burying her face against his shoulder and linking her arms around his neck as tight as she could. "Hey," Warrick whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around her body, laughing a little and crying at the same time. He had to laugh so he wouldn't lose it entirely. "Hey, look, it's over," he whispered, "You did it Sara," he whispered, patting her back. "It's over…" he told her.

"I love you, Warrick," Sara whispered, moving away from his shoulder so she could look into his eyes.

"I love you too, Sara," Warrick told her, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "But how about that hot chocolate?" he asked with a smile. "And then I can help you take a bath."

"A hot one?" Sara asked, almost hopeful.

"A warm one," Warrick corrected her as he scooped her up into his arms, grabbing a blanket from off the bed and wrapping that around her body as well. "A warm one," he whispered, nuzzling his face against her neck.

"Okay," Sara sighed in contentment, resting her head against his chest. "And Warrick…?"

"What is it…?" Warrick whispered, walking them both into the kitchen.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes slipping closed.

Warrick couldn't hide his smile. "You're welcome, Sara." Reaching into one of the cabinets for the hot cocoa mix, Warrick froze when his eyes fell upon a bulge in his left front pocket. With a frown, Warrick shifted the position of his arms around Sara's body before reaching into his pocket to see what it was.

Metal. A cold, metal barrel.

His eyes widened when he realized what it was. But Sara was falling asleep, and he was going to let her rest. Biting his lip, Warrick slowly moved his hand out of his pocket to rest at his side.

He was going to hold onto that.


	11. Three Days

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your encouragement and kind words! I'm hoping to start being able to update sooner as my Memento soundtrack has finally arrived from It's supposed to be the perfect music for writing dark things… even though I don't write dark things… 'cause I don't…**

**I think I picked the perfect time to try and write this chapter because I have just come down with what the doctor said was the beginning of shingles, and on top of that I have a cold courtesy of my sister. Lovely writing mood! Anyways, the next chapter's going to be more central around the team's reactions. Enjoy my sickly labor!**

It had been three days since she last said a full sentence, and Warrick was starting to get worried. Very, very worried.

She had been lying in bed for three days. Occasionally her whimpers and sobs were accompanied by a _'why?' _or another pitiful-sounding phrase. Whenever she needed to go to the bathroom, she merely held her arms up to Warrick for indication with the saddest of looks on her face, as if she was disappointed in herself that she had to depend so much on one person. Warrick didn't mind doing these things for her one bit- it was the look on her face that made him so worried.

The first day Warrick had thought she was just tired, that she had worn herself out from the night before. He let her rest as long as she wanted, knowing that she needed it. But when she didn't get out of bed six hours later he was starting to get worried. He had brought her a bowl of vegetable soup and a few slices of bread on a plate in hopes that she would eat, and when she didn't budge he had set them on the nightstand next to her hoping she would eat it later.

The second day Warrick didn't know what to do. She wasn't talking to him even if he pleaded with her, and she wasn't drinking enough fluids. He had sat down on the side of the bed with her and watched her sleep, then deciding to feel her forehead. She was burning up.

And on the third day Warrick was in utter desperation. She was running a fever and he knew she must be dehydrated, but he dare not force anything upon her for fear of scaring her. That was the last thing either of them needed. Warrick was the only one there for Sara, and if he did something to scare her she might not even want him around her anymore. But as he had promised, he wasn't going to take her to the hospital.

Then there was the subject of the evidence he had collected three days prior. He knew that it was precious and that it needed to be taken to the lab, but he didn't want to leave Sara even for a few minutes without anyone else there. He also didn't want to call someone else to pick it up because it would raise questions… and the second CODIS beeped and came up with a driver's license and registration photo of Sara as the match to the DNA samples everything would be out, and he knew Sara didn't want everyone to know about this.

Finally, after hours of debating this with himself, Warrick picked up his cell phone and decided to call Catherine. He didn't want everyone to know what happened, but Catherine was someone he had known for years, someone he trusted. He knew she would know better then to shout the word for everyone to hear and spread around the lab grapevine. He loved Sara, but the evidence needed to be processed as soon as possible if they were hoping to get Trey for what he did to her.

"Willows."

The familiar sound of Catherine's voice coming from the other end of the phone calmed Warrick some. He hadn't heard a voice other than his own it seemed in forever, and he needed some communication, _any_ communication. "Hey Cath, it's me," Warrick told her. "I need you to come over to Sara's apartment to pick up some stuff."

Catherine was just sealing the last of her evidence bags for the DA in the layout room. "Over at Sara's?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "Are you there now?"

"Yeah," Warrick replied, rubbing his forehead with his thumb, "I'll explain everything when you get here… but I need you to get this stuff quick."

"Alright," Catherine replied, starting to feel a little worried. "I'll be there in ten minutes tops." After hanging up her phone Catherine looked around the room as if some item lying around held the answers to all her questions. Why was Warrick at Sara's apartment, was Sara alright, what did he need her to so desperately pick up and where the _hell _were her car keys?

Warrick had hung up with a sigh, setting his phone down in front of him on Sara's oak-stained coffee table in the living room. This was definitely going to be awkward… even if Catherine had dealt with this sort of thing before. This time the victim was a colleague… it was _Sara._

Getting up from his place on the couch, Warrick bent down to fold up the blankets he had been sleeping with the past few nights. He was pretty sure the couch was probably molded to his body now. After folding them up and straightening up the pillows on both arms, he headed down the hallway toward the bedroom to see if Sara had woken up yet. He wanted to check on her before Catherine came over.

Cracking the door open ever so quietly Warrick slowly inched inside the room, spotting her still laying in the middle of her bed. The room was silent, which meant that Sara was asleep. Warrick wasn't sure how she could still be sleeping after three days, but… it was obvious she needed it, and he wasn't going to argue with that… and he wasn't about to wake her up, either. So instead, Warrick grabbed a foot-stool from a rocking chair that sat in the dark corner of the room and pulled it up to the bedside, choosing to just watch her instead.

Thousands of thoughts were running through Warrick's mind, some of the highlights being thoughts such as 'I need to get that soup bowl out of here before it gets moldy'. But before Warrick's mind could be filled with more puzzling thoughts the clump under the bed sheets began to stir, bringing him back to reality. As the blankets rustled he directed his gaze back to the bed.

She moved once and then she moved twice, and the third time she was looking for more blankets to cover herself up with. Warrick got up from his seat and pulled them back over her body, but her body seemed to resent this. She flinched and Warrick backed off, afraid that she would try and lash out at him. The truth of the matter was that she was instinctively just still so terrified of human contact, but Warrick couldn't shake the thought from his mind that she was scared of _him._

Sitting back down on the stool he watched her for a minute to see what she would do. Slowly she rolled over onto her side to face Warrick, her eyes still closed. Her right hand snaked out from under the sheets and dangled over the floor as she fell back to sleep and Warrick moved to set it back on the bed, but something caught his eye. Something he hadn't noticed before.

Bruises, there were bruises on her wrists. Why hadn't he seen them before? Had the bastard really hurt her that badly? Everything was a blur, he couldn't remember. What was the name of the club? Were they even there? Yes… yes they were, he realized. He remembered the smell of the perfume she was wearing that night. He remembered how pretty she had looked in her dress that night. He remembered the name of the wine he had bought that night.

Gently so as not to hurt her Warrick ran his fingertips over the bruises on her wrists, looking up at her face for indication of whether or not it was alright to continue. When she didn't move he directed his gaze back down at her skin. He could see something but he couldn't see them very clearly. Reaching over and turning on the lamp next to the bed, he bit the inside of his lip so he wouldn't let out a violent slur of obscenities.

They were there alright, dark and vividly, a clear symbol of the violence and destruction that had occurred just night before. There were finger imprints, angry fingernail scrapings, their appearance all rapidly increasing as Warrick's eyes scanned up and down her arm. He slowly lifted the bed sheets to discover that they went all the way up to her shoulder if not further. If only he had been there…

The doorbell rang and Warrick jumped, making him realize just how high stung he was over this whole thing. But he knew he could not erase time. But as it went on maybe he could erase the painful memories and create new ones. Better ones. Happy ones. Memories with him and the ones who loved her for who she was. He could help her forget the dreadful things that time had tainted her with. Maybe not forget completely… but help her remember the things she wanted to remember.

And when she felt sad, he would be there with her. And when she got scared, he would be there to hold her and tell her it was going to be alright. When she cried he would be there to dry her tears. And when she was happy he would be right there with her to share the good times.

Getting to his feet, Warrick gently set her arm back down on the bed at her side ever-so gently, as if she were a porcelain doll about to break. But she was, he realized, and she had already been broken once. He was going to put her back together again.

Leaning down and planting a kiss on her forehead, Warrick made sure she was warm before he headed down the hallway, cracking the bedroom door closed on his way out as the doorbell rang again impatiently. Walking up to the front door he looked through the peep-hole only to discover a fidgeting Catherine Willows standing outside the door, practically bouncing from foot to foot.

Opening the door, Warrick asked, "Cath…? What are you doing here?"

Catherine stared at him quizzically. "You called me… don't you remember?"

Oh crap. That was right. Well, she was going to be pissed.

"I'm sorry," Warrick sighed, rubbing at his forehead with his palm, "I guess I forgot."

She smiled sympathetically. That didn't look pissed off to Warrick.

"It's okay," she told him, stepping inside the apartment once he had stepped out of the way for her. After the door was closed, she set her things down on the floor. "So where's Sara?" she asked.

"She's in the bedroom right now…" Warrick said, "She's sleeping… well, she has been for a few days now…"

Catherine blinked, it not really clicking in her mind. She could tell Warrick was a little out of it. "A few days? Has she eaten anything?"

Warrick shook his head. "I've tried to make her eat, but she refused…"

"Has she had anything to drink?" Catherine continued, already heading into the kitchen to see what she could find.

"Only a few sips here and there…" Warrick said, starting to feel a little embarrassed. "What are you doing, Cath?"

"I'm going to make her eat, that's what I'm doing," Catherine said firmly, opening up the refrigerator. Catherine, being a mother, had always made sure that her daughter got enough to eat. Lindsey was healthy. Catherine had never seen Sara have more than a cup of coffee or an apple or candy bar from the vending machine in the break room at the lab. This time she was going to eat something more than that.

"Cath, maybe we should just let her sleep…?" Warrick suggested.

Catherine stopped for a minute, closing the refrigerator back up- her search had come up empty anyhow. "Warrick," she said bluntly, getting back to her feet. Looking at him for a good few moments, she put a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on?" she whispered, looking into his eyes for the answer. She knew something was wrong or he wouldn't have called her, but she had a feeling it was more than that if he was acting this strange. This wasn't him. He wasn't normally this shy or timid.

Warrick threw a gaze down the hallway at the cracked bedroom door before looking back down at Catherine. "It's just… y'know, I tried, and…" he whispered, more to himself than Catherine, "I tried to look out for her, and… and now look," he said, motioning with his hand down the hallway. "She hasn't said a full sentence in three days, and it's all my fault. I couldn't protect her, Cath, and it's my fault that this happened."

Catherine didn't like seeing people upset, especially her friends, but she knew it was good that Warrick was letting it out now. She didn't know exactly what he was talking about but at least he was saying _something._

"And… and now all I want is for her to get better," he whispered, "And I'm doing a crap job at that, too. What kind of person- what kind of _man_ am I if I can't even make her feel better?"

Catherine could sense he was about to break, and as horrible as it may have sounded she was a little relieved. Finally he was showing his true colors; he was showing emotion, and he was showing that he was still himself. His muscles were tense and his eyes were glistening with tears he stubbornly held back for the sake of not looking weak. "Warrick," she said, putting another hand on his shoulder, "Look at me, okay?" she asked. When he did she continued, "Do you love her?"

Catherine knew she didn't even have to ask when she saw the look in his eyes. "Yes I do, more than I've ever—" Catherine cut him off.

"Then that's all that matters," she whispered, "If you love her Warrick, then that's all that matters. It doesn't matter whose fault it is."

Warrick slowly nodded.

"You know this isn't your fault," Catherine continued, "…Whose is it?"

Warrick let that slur of obscenities he had been holding back for the past three days out as he balled his hand into a fist. "He raped her, Catherine. That bastard _raped_ her."

Catherine's eyes widened as everything began to become clearer. But she was completely thrown off-guard. When Sara had first come to Vegas, Catherine had dubbed her an annoyance and nothing else. She had almost been sure Grissom had brought her in just to spite her. But as the weeks and eventually months went by she realized that Sara wasn't there to try and make her life harder. She was there to solve crimes and do her job passionately and professionally, just like they all were. But she had noticed that Sara was almost _too_ determined, and she practically worked herself to death. Catherine had always secretly kept an eye on the younger woman; she saw so many resemblances with Lindsey in her. She had become sort of her daughter-away-from-home.

And something like this happening to her daughter was her worst nightmare.

"How…?" she managed to whisper in disbelief.

After Warrick had managed to tell her what had happened, Catherine was speechless. It took a lot to render Ms. Catherine Willows speechless.

"I just… I just don't understand how anyone could've done something like that, Cath," Warrick whispered, shaking his head. "I don't know what to do for her. She's just so… broken. She doesn't want to get out of bed, she won't eat anything…"

"Then we'll just help put her back together," Catherine said. Without another word she headed down the hallway toward the bedroom, Warrick trailing behind her.

The look of the bedroom was less than inviting but Catherine could've cared less. All that mattered now was making sure Sara was alright. Walking around to the side of the bed, Catherine leaned over and brushed some brown hair out of Sara's eyes, placing a hand on her forehead. When Sara mumbled something and moved away from her hand, Catherine moved back. "Is she always this stubborn?" Catherine asked Warrick with a small smile. "Well she's warm but she's still stubborn, so that's always a good sign."

Warrick let the smallest hint of a smile cross his face.

"I'm going to go warm some soup up for her," Catherine announced, heading for the door, "Can you wake her up?"

Warrick simply nodded, walking over to the bed. He really didn't want to disturb Sara, although he knew she needed to get up and get something to eat and drink. Lying in bed for three days straight was far from healthy. "Sara, come on girl, wake up…" he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder.

When Sara didn't budge Catherine walked in front of Warrick to try her method- the _mommy_ method. She obviously wasn't in to Warrick's pansy method, he thought. He almost expected her to roll up her sleeves with her years of experience as she leaned over Sara. "Sara, you need to get up," she said louder, "You need to get up and eat something."

Warrick decided to stand back and let the master work, a light shade of red starting to flush his cheeks. Why didn't he do that before?

"You need to get up, and you're going to eat," Catherine continued, "Do you understand?"

Sara didn't budge.

"Sara," Catherine sighed, "I knew you were stubborn, but this is ridiculous," she said, trying to poke fun. If she knew one thing about Sara it was that she hated being taunted. "Lindsey's not half as hard to wake up in the mornings."

Nothing.

"Alright Sara," Catherine sighed again, "You've left me no choice." Leaning over Catherine pulled the blankets off of Sara which Warrick was about to protest to before panic set in.

There was a thin layer of sweat above her forehead and the nape of her neck, beginning to drip down her chest through her tank top. Her eyes remained glued shut and her body motionless, the only indication that she was alive being the somewhat strained raise and fall of her chest. "Sara?" Warrick quickly asked, kneeling down beside the bed. "Sara, wake up," he whispered. His heart was pounding in his ears, his hands were shaking, and his mind was racing.

_Oh god please don't die on me now._


	12. Falling Up

**A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing :) The flashbacks in this chapter scenes from episodes in the first season leading up to Too Tough To Die.**

"Sara?" Warrick whispered again. Every passing second was making him become more frantic with worry as she remained motionless on the bed. "Sara, wake up, please!" She couldn't go now… she couldn't leave him, not now…

Catherine had already ran to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with cold water and returning to the bedside where she set it down on her sweat-drenched forehead, slowly dabbing it away. "Sara honey, wake up."

When she didn't stir, Warrick was beginning to panic again. "I'm going call 9-1-1," he said and without another word to Catherine he bolted through the doorway of the bedroom into the kitchenette where the phone was.

Staying with Sara, Catherine kneeled down in Warrick's place on the floor, still gently rubbing Sara's forehead with the washcloth. "Sara, wake up," she pleaded with her again, "Please, just wake up."

Everything was blurry and hazy and cloudy but she could hear muffled voices as she began to stir on the bed. Who was there, though? She couldn't tell. She took a deep breath and instantly recognized a scent- perfume. Catherine's perfume. She only wore it when she wasn't working, it interfered with the job. "Cath?" Sara finally whispered.

Catherine immediately let out a sigh of relief. "Yeah honey, I'm here. Warrick's calling an ambulance, okay?"

"What's going on?" Sara hoarsely whispered, licking her dry lips. Her lips felt like sandpaper and her tongue wasn't moist enough to help at all.

"You passed out," Catherine explained, heading into the bathroom. Spotting some paper cups, she grabbed one and filled it with some water, returning to Sara's bedside. "Here, drink this," she instructed her, putting a hand on her back to steady her as she tried to sit up.

Sara took the water greedily, like she had just been handed a million dollars, and sat up despite her tired body's groaning protests. She held it up to her lips and started to gulp it down before spitting it out and lunging forward to the edge of the bed as her body heaved.

"Sara?" Warrick instantly came running at the sound, "Sara, what's wrong?" he worriedly asked, running to her side and putting a hand on her back so she didn't fall. When she was unable to respond, he looked to Catherine, "What happened?"

"She woke up and I handed her some water but she can't keep liquids down," Catherine said. Then thinking about it for a minute, something dinged in her head. "I'll be right back," she told him, getting up and jogging down the hallway to the kitchen.

"Sara?" Warrick whispered as Sara finished emptying the few… oh so few contents of her stomach. Once she had collapsed against his body, he wrapped an arm around her waist and felt her forehead with his. She was burning up now more than ever and her body was shaking. It was scaring the hell out of him and he didn't know what to do. He only hoped the ambulance came soon.

"Here," Catherine said, returning the bedroom with a clear plastic cup filled with some crushed ice, "When Lindsey was little, she got dehydrated and she couldn't keep liquids down," she explained, walking over to the other end of the bed and sitting down next to Sara, "She can suck on ice for a little while until she can."

"Okay Sara," Warrick whispered, taking the glass from Catherine and slowly holding it up to her lips. "Come on, open your mouth," he whispered, nudging her with his arm when she didn't respond.

After Sara eventually complied, Warrick tilted the glass and let some ice fall into her mouth before taking it back. "Just suck on it," he told her, "Just suck on it and then I'll give you some more."

Sara immediately started working at the ice with her tongue, with the roof of her mouth, with her teeth, anything she could in order to melt it to soothe her sore dry throat. Within seconds it was gone and she was already reaching for the glass.

"Hey," Warrick whispered, slowly grabbing her hands and bringing them back to her side, "Easy, I don't want you to choke yourself," he told her, "If you have too much you might throw up again, Sara…"

"But I'm thirsty!" Sara protested, "Why can't I just have some water?"

"Because you can't keep fluids down, Sara," Catherine tried to explain, "Remember? I handed you a cup of water and you couldn't keep it down…"

Sara was much too tired and agitated and upset to think much of what they were saying to her or of what she was saying for that matter. She just wanted water and she wanted it now, despite the consequences. She would _kill_ for a glass of water. "I want some water!" she angrily cried, looking up at Warrick, "Why won't you give it to me?"

The look on Sara's face was enough to break Warrick's heart. Her face was damp with sweat; her forehead, upper lip and bridge of her nose were caked in it. Her hair was matted and sticking to the sides of her face and her eyes were glistening with tears. "Sara, listen to me," he whispered, gently lifting her into his lap despite Catherine's presence. He didn't care who saw the display of affection at the moment. "I want to give it to you, I really do, girl, but I don't want to make you sicker than you already are."

"I just want some water, Warrick," Sara whispered, "That's all I want!"

"I know, Sara," Warrick whispered, gently pulling her head against his body, "I know…"

"I don't want to feel this way anymore," she finally admitted as more angry tears descended down her face, "I don't want to feel helpless! I want to feel human again!"

Warrick didn't respond; he couldn't. He was too frightened at the feeling of Sara's rapid heartbeat against his own chest. Her breaths were short and quick, coming out shallower every second. "Sara, you have to calm down," he whispered.

"I _don't_, Warrick! I don't want to feel this way anymore, this entire thing wasn't my fucking fault!" she screamed, angrily pounding at his chest with her fists. She was too weak to hurt him but Warrick was still worried.

She was going to snap, he could sense it. And normally he would feel relieved that she was finally letting it all out, but not now. Her heart was beating far too quickly and her fever was much too high.

"Warrick!" Catherine called from in the living room when she saw the ambulance pull up outside. She had been the only one who had heard the sirens approaching. "The ambulance is here!"

Warrick immediately scooped Sara back into his arms, almost running out of the bedroom to the front door of her apartment, "I know it wasn't your fault, Sara," he tried to remain calm for Sara's sake, "but can you breathe for me now?"

"Warrick, she's not moving," Catherine immediately felt her blood run cold as she looked down at Sara's motionless form. She had been screaming seconds ago, something definitely wasn't right.

"Damn it!" Warrick angrily shouted, "Sara, wake up!" he yelled, throwing the front door open and almost knocking Catherine out of the way in the process, "Wake up, right now!" he angrily told her as he bolted down the stairs, looking around for the ambulance on the way. As he saw a group of EMTs running with a gurney between them he looked down at Sara as he tried to catch his breath. "Sara, please," he whispered, "You can't do this… not now. You can't leave me now, girl," he whispered. "Not after everything we've been through together!"

"_Damn! Taking the whole window!" _

_She turned around and shot him that look he had seen far too often on her face, one of her signature glares. "Grissom reinstated you."_

"_And you have a problem with that."_

"Sara, please wake up," Warrick whispered.

"_Let me guess. Grissom gets you to dime yourself off and now you both feel better? You're supposed to be in court. Instead, you're placing bets for a cheap thrill to satisfy nothing!"_

"_Hey! This has nothing to do with you. So are we going to work together… or not?"_

She couldn't leave him now, not after he had come so close to losing her. He had almost lost her in the midst of the Holly Gribbs investigation because he was too blind to accept he had made a mistake. He was fighting himself and his gambling addiction, and the stupidest thing he chose to do was fight with Sara. Because of their strong will, they both eventually had mended fences. But if they hadn't he never would have been able to experience this wonderful life she had showed him.

"Sara, please," Warrick whispered, ignoring the EMTs who were trying to get his attention. "You can tell me I'm an idiot, you can yell at me for not protecting you, you can hit me…" he whispered as he felt moisture beginning to run down his face, "I don't care, just don't leave me!"

"_I want to be Shannon," she had that excited tone to her voice as she let Grissom know exactly what was on her mind. She smiled as he handed her the card and she was victorious._

"_The stewardess," he bluntly said._

"_Excuse me, it's 'Flight Attendant'," she corrected him._

Warrick tried his hardest to fight back his tears but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. "You can tease me, you can taunt me, you can make fun of me, I don't care," he whispered to her, rubbing her cheek with his thumb, "I just want to see that smile again. Please," he whispered.

"Sir, we're going to need to take her now," one of the EMTs told him. He had been trying to get Warrick's attention the entire time but he wasn't getting through to him. "Sir?"

"Please, Sara?" Warrick asked her, "Come on, just open your eyes…"

"Sir, we need to take her but we're going to take good care of her," the EMT told him, reaching over and slowly starting to take Sara from his arms.

Just as Warrick was practically about to punch the guy in the face, Catherine was there to restrain him. "Warrick, they have to get her to the hospital," she told him, stepping in front of him before he could hurt anyone. "They need to take care of her."

"They're trying to take her from me," Warrick angrily said, looking at Catherine. She knew that look. It was the look of an upset, worried man who had stayed up for three days straight trying to take care of the woman he loved.

"They're not trying to take her from you," Catherine calmly replied, slowly prying his fingers off of Sara. "They're trying to help her. Can you let them do that?" she softly asked him.

Looking at Catherine for a minute, Warrick was about to protest before she made eye-contact with him. Sara had shot him that same look when she was trying to calm him down. "…Okay," he finally said, and as his hold on Sara finally loosened the EMTs set her on the gurney and wheeled her toward the ambulance.

Not thinking much of it, Catherine caught Warrick in a hug before he was able to go to the ambulance to the follow them. "It's going to be okay," she told him before she released him, "Now go take care of her for us, will you?" she whispered.

Warrick nodded, about to run off before he stopped himself. "Thanks, Cath," he quietly told her before he jogged off after the EMTs to the ambulance.

Catherine waited until they had loaded Sara up into the ambulance and Warrick was inside with her to head back up to the apartment. She desperately wanted to go with him to the hospital but he had called her on the phone and told her he needed her to pick something up. If he had called her, then it was obviously important. She didn't know what it was, but she knew she would know what he meant when she saw it.

Going through the door of the apartment and leaving it open behind her, Catherine looked around. She didn't anything that stood out. Maybe he left it in the bedroom, she thought. Heading down the hallway into the bedroom she started looking around for anything that looked out-of-place. And that was when she saw it.

There on the dresser were some clear plastic evidence bags, about two or three of them along with some bindles and swabs that had been closed up and sealed. She suddenly felt cold. Very, very cold.

Approaching the dresser almost cautiously, Catherine swallowed her nerves and reached out to grab one of the bags, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky sigh as she saw what the contents were inside. It was something she had seen far too often and something she should never see in the home of one of her closest friends.

Reaching into her pocket she immediately called Grissom. They needed to get it to the lab and have it tested as soon as possible, but some bastard had hurt their Sara and he wasn't going to get off scot-free.

"Grissom."

"Gil, I'm going to bring some samples over to the lab," Catherine immediately told him without even a greeting, already outside the apartment on her way to her car with the bags in-hand. "They're a top priority."

Grissom was confused. "Didn't you just close a case? It's your day off."

"I know it's my day off," Catherine said, shoving her car key in the lock and throwing her car door open. Putting the evidence bags in the passenger's seat, she crawled inside and closed her door behind herself. "But this is urgent."

"What's going on, Catherine?" Grissom could sense the tone in her voice and knew instantly that something was indeed wrong.

"It's Sara, Gil," she told him, "Warrick's taking her to the hospital. He told me she was…" she took a deep breath, her eyes slipping closed as she caught herself. She hated the word… "He told me she was raped. He called me earlier and told me he needed me to pick something up from her apartment because he didn't want to leave her, and I'm bringing a SART kit to the lab," Catherine explained, already on the road.

The other line was silent for a long moment, the only response being heavy breathing. "…Is she okay?"

"I don't know," Catherine said, speeding through every intersection, "She passed out and she's barely eaten anything for three days. She can't keep any fluids down and Warrick's with her at the hospital now."

Grissom let out a heavy sigh. "Do we know what happened yet?"

"I don't have any details," Catherine told him, "Except that I know the son of a bitch that did this is a dead man."


	13. Hatred

**A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing :)**

"Set up an IV," one of the EMTs instructed their partner as they set a stethoscope around his neck, pressing the metal against Sara's chest.

"Is she going to be alright?" Warrick anxiously asked, watching the EMTs' every move. "She is, right?"

"Sir, we're not exactly sure right now," the EMT answered, removing the stethoscope. Looking at their partner, he said, "Her pulse is very slow. I'm going to take her BP."

Looking at both EMTs with wide eyes, Warrick worriedly looked down at Sara swallowing back his nerves and fear. "It's going to be okay, girl," he whispered, "I promise…"

"BP's off the charts, she's agitated," the EMT announced as they arrived at the hospital. "Let's get her in there, now!"

----

"Greg, these samples need to get processed immediately," Grissom instructed him as he handed him the SART kit Catherine had brought to the lab before heading back to the hospital.

"Boss, I'm a little backed-up here…" Greg started but he cut him off

"Well those aren't important," he simply told him, a panicked and angry sting to his voice, "So process these instead. They're a top priority for us." He turned to leave, but stopped. "And turn the music off."

He walked off, leaving Greg absolutely befuddled as she set the SART kit down next to her, slowly clearing her table off. "Yes Sir," he blankly said, quickly leaning over and turning the music he was blasting off.

"What?" Nick asked, walking into the room nonchalantly. "You look white as a sheet. Find another extremely freaky semen sample?" he grinned.

"I'll let you know," Greg mumbled, opening the kit up and taking out the swabs. "That's weird…" he trailed off.

"What?" Nick asked.

"These aren't initialed," Greg said, checking the box over. "Any of these. Who collected this, day shift?"

Nick shrugged. "How should I know?"

Greg simply shrugged as he looked over one of the swabs. "I don't see any traces of semen."

"So he wore a condom," Nick said.

"No, actually… there aren't any lubricants, not even a trace of penile penetration," Greg told him, snipping a piece of the swab off and sliding it under the microscope.

"How would you know? Personal experience?" Nick teased, leaning closer to try and look in the microscope.

"I've done a few of these," Greg wryly answered, increasing the pixels. "I see blood," he told him. "A little blood, but nothing else."

"So it was an object rape?" Nick asked.

"Well, let's see," Wendy said, going through the rest of the contents in the SART kit. There were a few bindles and plastic evidence bags that fell out but nothing else. "What the hell is this?" she asked, completely confused as she looked through everything. "There's nothing here! No side-notes, no examination records, not even a patient name—"

"I can give you the patient's name," Grissom appeared in the hallway making both Wendy and Greg look over at him. "Sara Sidle."

----

Warrick sat in the waiting room anxiously tapping his foot against the blue and white tiles on the floor as he stared at the ground, his hands folded together and head hung low. The doctor hadn't told him anything yet, nor had the EMTs who basically ignored his presence altogether and he was starting to get worried. He was also starting to get frustrated and that stupid ticking clock was beginning to _really_ annoy him…

"Warrick Brown?"

Warrick's head perked up at the sound of the doctor's voice. "Yes?" he asked, immediately getting to his feet when he saw him standing in the doorway, clipboard in-hand. "Do you have news?"

"Yes," the doctor answered, "And she's going to be alright." Warrick breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "She was dehydrated and she passed out," he explained, "We also found bruises around her arms and thighs as well as some vaginal trauma she sustained that appears to be fresh." He paused for a minute. "Sir, do you know what happened?"

Warrick let out a sigh. "She was assaulted about three days ago. We're with the crime lab and she refused to go to the hospital, so I did the exam myself. It was taken over to the lab to be processed a few hours ago."

The doctor nodded, writing that down on the clipboard. "The trauma wasn't severe though there was a bit of bleeding…"

_Oh god,_ Warrick thought, _Sara, you didn't tell me you were bleeding…_

"It stopped itself on its own," the doctor told him, "We set up some IVs and drips to replenish her system, so when you see her she's probably going to have a lot of cords around her, just remember that it's normal," he told Warrick as he headed down the hallway toward her room, Warrick trailing behind him. "We've administered her some sleeping medication and some painkillers so she should be out for another few hours."

"Alright, thank you," Warrick told him as he walked into Sara's room, stopping just in front of her bed. "Oh Sara," he whispered, looking sadly down at her frail form on the hospital bed, machines beeping and drips pumping, "I'm so sorry…"

----

"What the hell are you talking about?" Greg was immediately seething with anger, his hand curling into a fist solely pent on beating the crap out of anyone that would _dare_ hurt Sara.

"Gris… what's going on?" Nick asked, his eyes narrowing.

"We don't have all of the details yet," Grissom explained, "But according to Catherine who talked with Warrick, Sara was assaulted three days ago at a club down on the Strip called the Midnight. He took her home to her apartment and collected the SART kit himself, and afterwards she refused to eat anything or get out of bed."

"Is she okay?" Nick asked.

"Warrick's at the hospital with her now," Grissom said. "Catherine's on her way. They're going to call us with any changes." Turning to Greg, he asked, "Anything probative?"

"There's blood," Greg angrily mumbled, "The bastard…"

"Process it, just to be sure whose it is," Grissom sighed.

"Yeah, Sara's a tough woman, there's a chance this might belong to the suspect," Nick nodded.

"Exactly. Nick, I want you to come with me to the club, see if we can get anything from there," Grissom told him. "We don't have a name of the guy yet, so we'll have to wait until Sara wakes up in order to ask her."

"Right," Nick said, already walking out of the lab.

"I'll let you know what I find," Greg mumbled, trying to resist the urge to punch a wall in anger.

"Greg?" Grissom calmly asked. "You have to calm down or you're not going to be any help to Sara. We _will_ get this guy."

Greg blinked, looking over at Grissom before letting out a sigh, nodding his head in agreement. "Yeah, I know. Okay." He took a deep breath. "I'll page you with the results."

----

"Hey," Catherine walked through the doorway of Sara's hospital room. When Warrick turned to face her, her features immediately softened.

"Hey," he greeted her, trying to wipe any remnants of tears from his eyes. He had already cried in front of Catherine once and he didn't want to do it again. "How's everything going?"

"Alright," Catherine told him, pulling a chair up next to him. "Gil gave the samples to Greg to run and they're working on it now."

"Good," Warrick said, turning to look back at Sara. "I swear Cath, I want to kill him."

"I know 'Rick, we all do," Catherine told him. "How's she doing?"

"Doc says she's dehydrated," Warrick dryly laughed, "And guess why? It's because I didn't make her eat."

"You didn't want to upset her, Warrick," Catherine said, "That doesn't make you a bad person. You wanted her to feel safe and comfortable."

Warrick was silent for a few moments but nodded finally, looking down at the floor. "Trey."

"What?" Catherine blinked.

"That's the guy's name," Warrick explained. "Trey. Trey Wolfe."

----

"Gil, we've got a name," Catherine said over her cell phone outside the hospital, anxiously pacing back and forth.

"Who is he?" Grissom asked as he and Nick arrived at the club.

"Warrick said the guy's name is Trey Wolfe," Catherine informed him.

"More like 'Dead Man Walking'."


	14. Slipping Away

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your continued encouragement and reviews and I apologize once more for the lack of updates. I've been busy :)**

"What do you mean _he got away_?" Grissom angrily demanded from his cell phone, listening to Brass on the other line. "Warrick said there were uniforms at the club."

"Yeah well it turns out our guy is a drug dealer," Brass let out a heavy sigh. "We caught the cops who let him loose a few miles out of Vegas trying to skip town."

"You can't be serious," Grissom asked, his tone dripping with incredulity.

"There hasn't been any sign of the guy since, and they claim they don't know where he ran off to," Brass continued. "We've been interrogating them for hours now."

"Well keep trying," Grissom told him, "Because this guy isn't going loose."

"I'm on it, Gil." The phone clicked off as Brass hung up.

"What's up, Gris?" Nick asked his boss, a bit intimidated at the fierce look on his face.

"Brass said the guy bribed the cops who arrested him with drugs and they set him loose," he replied in a mere mumble.

"What the hell?" Nick immediately asked. "That's bullshit, I'm telling you. Pure bullshit. Have they talked?"

"Brass has been trying to make them talk for hours now and they haven't given him a location yet," Grissom sighed. "I hate to admit it but they really may not know where he ran off to."

Nick turned away to look out the Denali's passenger side window with a scowl on his face. "Well the idiot probably left something behind at the club."

"Let's hope they haven't cleaned everything up yet," Grissom nodded as he slowed the car to a stop in front of the club, putting the gears in park. He opened his door and stepped outside, closing the door behind him and walking around to the back of the car to retrieve their kits.

"This place looks… sleazy," Nick grimaced as he got a good look at the place—flickering neon lights (the club was now only technically called 'ight', those three letters being the only ones that weren't burnt out), the world's worst paint job and cigarette butts- one of which was still burning- thrown on the pavement in front of the door, a Vegas resident's ash tray. "Why would Sara…"

"Let's just focus on what we know right now," Grissom interrupted him as he heaved their kits out of the trunk. _It's my fault this happened. I was the one who told her to get a diversion._ "And if this place is the same inside as it is outside the employees here should know how to deal with cops."

"Right," Nick agreed, stooping down to pick us hit kit before following Grissom to the front entrance of the club. The inside of the club was barely visible behind the cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke that assaulted their eyes as they entered.

"What can I do for you two?" asked a voice- clearly male- coming from behind the counter.

Grissom waved away more smoke from his line of sight and determined the man as the bartender. "I'm Gil Grissom and this is Nick Stokes," he motioned behind him to Nick who was trying not to cough up a lung, "and we're with the crime lab. We're here about a Trey Wolfe."

"Michael Stravinski, but you can call me Mike," he introduced himself. "What do you need to know about Trey?"

"Have you seen him around lately?" Nick spoke up, coming up from behind Grissom. "We need to speak with him and it's urgent."

"I haven't seen him in about two weeks now," Mike shook his head, wiping off the bar space with a damp towel. "Is this in regards to the incident with Miss Sidle?" he then asked.

"Yes, it is," Grissom replied, pursing his lips.

"It's a real shame, what happened," he sighed, setting his towel aside. "She was a nice woman. Real pretty too. How is she doing, speaking of which?"

"She's in the hospital," Nick informed him, narrowing his eyes, "Which is why we're here. Trey Wolfe has a warrant out for his arrest."

Mike simply shook his head again with a sigh. "What can I do to help you folks?"

"I was wondering if we could have a look around," Grissom told him. "Where's Mr. Wolfe's office?"

"Back of the building to your left," Mike answered. "You can't miss it." Just as Grissom was about to open his mouth again, Mike beat him to it, "Don't worry, we didn't clean anything up yet. We've dealt with cops quite a bit here."

"Oh really?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is that true?"

"Yeah," Mike nodded. "Trey's got himself into trouble before, that ain't no mystery."

"I'm going to go process," Grissom told Nick who nodded and decided to stay at the bar to talk with Mike a little more.

"What kind of trouble?" he pressed on.

"Trey's got himself busted for drug paraphernalia a few times," Mike told him, "And we've caught him using in his office before a show a few times."

"Did you inform the police?" Nick asked.

Mike bit his lip, leaning toward Nick. "You see, we would've but Trey's the best act we've got here," he discreetly informed him, "Without him the place would be out of business and I'd have no job."

Nick nodded his understanding. "What can you tell me about the incident with Sara—" he caught himself, "Miss Sidle?"

"I was here at the bar all night," Mike told him, "Working my shift. Miss Sidle came in on time with another man… Warrick Brown if I remember his name correctly. She went backstage to get ready."

"Was Trey here when she came in?" Nick asked.

"No, he was running a little late I guess," Mike shrugged. "She went up stage and started with that friend of hers—though I can tell you they were getting pretty friendly—as Trey arrived. He wasn't too happy about that."

"Did you see where he went?" Nick continued.

"I saw him heading backstage but I couldn't follow him, it was a busy night," Mike told him. "Friday nights are always busy for us. The bar's swamped. They put on a real nice performance though, I can tell you that much."

"Do you know what happened, exactly?" Nick asked.

"No, I don't have all the details," Mike said, "But I knew something must've happened when the cops showed up. I never liked the way Trey looked at Miss Sidle."

Grissom had maneuvered his way through the club to the back where he found Trey's office, the door marked with his name and hanging ajar. After slapping on a pair of gloves he ventured inside and took out his maglite, shining it inside the room.

It was chaos—one of the chairs was turned over, papers were strewn all over the floor, there was some sort of liquid staining the carpet followed by a few drops of red next to a torn piece of clothing material. Grissom clenched his jaw as he walked further inside.

There was a bottle of champagne open on the desk and one full glass, the other tipped over and laying empty on the floor. Signs of a struggle were definitely there. Everything was here. There was no way in hell they weren't going to be able to get Trey.

"Here, I brought you some coffee," Catherine's voice once again freed Warrick of his trance as he finally tore his eyes away from Sara to look over at her.

"Thanks," he told her, taking the steaming cup from her hands with a sigh.

"She still hasn't woken up yet?" Catherine questioned, sitting down beside him and glancing over at the sleeping Sara on the bed.

"No," Warrick shook his head. "I'm hoping it's still just the drugs. I just… I need to see her wake up, Cath," he whispered. "I need to see that she's alright."

"Just give her some time, 'Rick," Catherine assured him, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure she must be exhausted. Just give it some time." Hearing her pager beeping, both Catherine and Warrick turned to look at the small black box clipped onto her belt. Catherine clipped it off and looked at it.

"What is it? News?" Warrick anxiously asked.

"The results from the rape kit are in," Catherine softly told him, letting out a sigh.

"…Do I even want to know what they say?" Warrick asked, tearing his gaze away from the pager to the floor, the wall, anything but Sara.

"Epotheloles from under Sara's nails came back to Trey, he has a record," Catherine started.

"The bastard- serves him right. I hope Sara scratched the crap out of him." Warrick hissed under his breath.

"The blood sample was a match to Sara," Catherine then said, looking over at Warrick- and then down at his fist that was quickly turning white as he sat with it clenched. "That's it."

"That's it?" Warrick asked, quickly looking back at Catherine. "How can that be it? The son of a bitch was so stupid, he must've—"

"That's all that came back from the rape kit, that doesn't mean that's all we're going to find, Warrick," Catherine assured him. "Have faith in Nick and Gil. They'll find out more."

Warrick finally sighed in defeat, nodding his head slowly as he looked back down at the floor. "You're right. I just hope they find the guy soon."

"I can't believe he was able to skip town," Nick continued as Grissom drove them back to the lab. "How does that happen? How stupid can the cops—"

"Nick, being pissed off isn't going to solve anything," Grissom interrupted him keeping his eyes glued to the road his fists clenching the steering wheel. "We all want the guy dead but being angry about it isn't going to find the guy. We just need to get this stuff from the scene processed and we'll have a strong case against him. He couldn't have gone far- I'm sure Brass will track him down soon."

Nick let out a heavy sigh, nodding his head in agreement. "I know Gris, but god, man. I mean this is Sara we're talking about. Our Sara Sidle- do you know how hard it is to stay partial to something like this?"

"Yes I do, Nick," Grissom truthfully told him with a frown as they pulled into the lab parking lot. "Yes I do."

---

After another few hours, Warrick had fallen asleep in Sara's hospital room. Catherine had left the room to go use her cell phone outside to try and get more information from Grissom on the case. Sara started to stir, finally breaking out of her drug-induced slumber.

The second Warrick felt a movement coming from the bed he snapped awake, his eyes looking around wildly. They automatically latched themselves onto Sara who was trying to move her stiff body. "Sara?" he asked.

Sara let out a painful-sounding moan, forcing both eyes open and squinting at the harsh overhead lights in the room. "Warrick?" she managed to get out. "Wha… what happened?"

Warrick let out a heavy sigh of relief as he pushed him chair closer to her bed, grabbing a hold of her hand. "You passed out, Sara," he told her. "Do you remember? I called Catherine over and we tried to wake you up but you had already passed out."

Sara licked her dry lips, grimacing as her tongue felt like sandpaper. "Cath's here?" she whispered.

"I think she's just outside using her cell phone," Warrick informed her, getting to his feet and heading over to the sink to get Sara some water. Grabbing a paper cup, he filled it with some tap water before hastily returning to Sara's side and holding the cup up to her lips. "Open your mouth," he instructed her.

Sara did as he said, greedily gulping down the entire cup but only succeeding in swallowing about a fourth of the cup before she coughed up the rest of it.

"I'm sorry," Warrick sighed. "I forgot. The doctor said you were dehydrated. You may not be able to keep any liquids down. Why didn't you tell me anything, girl? I was worried sick about you…"

Sara reached up and wiped her mouth off with the sleeve of her hospital gown, looking over at Warrick. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to make you worry. I just… I couldn't stop playing everything over in my head… it was just too much."

Warrick nodded his understanding, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I understand," he told her. "But when we get out of here, I'm taking you out to a nice dinner, got it?" he asked her. "I'm talking five-star, candlelit on a balcony overlooking the Strip."

"I'd like that," Sara whispered, shooting him the smallest of smiles.

"Good," Warrick smiled back. Her smile was small, but it was a start.

---

"It's a good thing Sara didn't drink the champagne," Hodges' voice interrupted Grissom's meditation and made Nick jump from his place on the break room couch.

"Tox came back?" Nick asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah, with strong traces of Rohypnol," Hodges informed them, handing Grissom the results. "He drugged it."

"He had it planned all along," Grissom said, staring at the results in disbelief. "She was right. She knew exactly what he was going to do."

"He must've freaked out," Hodges gave his two cents.

"Sara caught him off-guard," Nick said, "And after she pissed him off he must've drugged the champagne and then called her into his office."

Grissom turned to look at Nick and Nick returned the look, fire in his eyes. "We have to find him, Gris."


	15. Perfection Perfected

**A/N: Thank you all so much again for being so patient with updates :) This chapter is more light-hearted but Warrick and Sara can't seem to get a break, can they? This chapter may remind you of the beginning of chapter seven—I sort of liked the whole déjà vu effect :)**

He had taken her out to the shops near the Strip—the most expensive shops he knew of in Vegas. He gave her his credit card and told her to pick out the most beautiful most extravagant dress she could possibly find. He told her not to worry about money as much as she protested. He booked the best suite he could find in the Palermo. He wanted this night to be absolutely perfect. She deserved only the best.

It had been about four months now since the incident with Trey had occurred and Sara was finally able to sleep at night. Brass was still working around the clock, checking for any signs of him in the area but so far nothing had come up. It was almost as if Trey had vanished into thin air. As much as Warrick wanted to kill the son of a bitch he was relieved that he was nowhere near Sara. She had been through enough as it was.

He stared at himself in the mirror and fixed his tie, smoothing down the sides of his tuxedo with his hands. He tried not to smile at the small black box sitting on the table in front of him. The day he had sent Sara to find a dress he had gone to pick it up. He had ordered it a few weeks prior from one of the few reputable jewelers in Vegas. It had a silver band that embraced three small diamonds at the very top. He was going to ask her to marry him.

As the final touch he applied a small bottle of cologne had grabbed from off the vanity. It was probably one of the single most expensive items Warrick Brown owned; it had been a very rare type of cologne he had purchased years ago when he went to France. Since it was so small and so expensive, he only wore it on special occasions. Sara always liked his cologne, and this occasion was the definition of special.

After rigorously going over every single detail of his tuxedo several times he turned around as she emerged from the master bathroom. Oh she was always gorgeous and lovely in his eyes but there were not enough words to describe the way she looked at this very moment.

He hadn't seen the dress yet and Sara had hidden it safe in its box under their bed until tonight to surprise him. It was long and embraced the curves and shape of her legs, stopping just above her ankles. It was a dark red color—a cross between burgundy and maroon, perhaps—and the hem dipped so that it rested just above her heart. She was wearing a small necklace- nothing too flashy- but Warrick thought it accented the entire thing perfectly. Her lips were almost perfectly matching the shade of her dress and her eyes glittered in the evening sunlight.

"Oh Sara…" Warrick whispered. If he didn't know better he would've thought she was an angel, her small frame encircled with the day's remaining purple and orange sunlight. "You look absolutely beautiful." He wished he could think of some over term.

She shot him a smile that instantly warmed his heart as she turned around so he could see the back. He had missed that smile of hers. To his surprise the material ended a lot lower than he would suspect for her, making its mark just above her abdomen so he could see the muscles in her back. "Could you tie this for me?" she asked him.

"Hey, I was still enjoying the view," Warrick shot her a grin as he walked over and grabbed the ties from her hands, tying it securely but gently around her neck. "You surprised me, girl. This thing ends pretty low…" he told her.

She let out a squeak when she felt his hand roaming the exposed skin on her back and she immediately flipped around at the sound of Warrick's laughter. "_Warrick_!" she shouted, "I _told _you not to do that!"

"I'm sorry, I must've forgotten," Warrick said, clearing his throat. Oh he remembered, all right.

She shot him a look before she turned around and headed out of the bedroom down the hallway of the suite. "So where are we going for dinner?" she curiously asked. "I'm surprised you've been able to keep quiet about it for all this time."

"Hey, I can keep a secret or two," Warrick protested as he followed her down the hallway where she grabbed a small black clutch to carry along with her. "But you'll like it, I'll tell you that much."

"Oh I don't doubt that," she smiled at him, tucking a brown curl behind her ear. "So far this has been… magical. Like a fairy-tale," she said. "God, I feel like Alice in Wonderland," she giggled.

"That's the whole point," Warrick whispered, wrapping both arms around her waist and gently pulling her against him. "That's the whole point girl-- I wanted this night to be perfect. If you want fresh cut roses on the table, I'll go pick them for you. If you want to be swept off your feet by a knight in shining armor I'd gladly oblige."

Sara let out a sigh as he slowly rocked them back and forth from side-to-side and he gently placed kisses up and down her neck. "Mm… you spoil me, you know that, right? I could get used to this."

"Well I get to spoil you tonight, so you better get used to this," Warrick murmured into her ear. "We should go down to dinner though so we're not late."

"Alright, if you insist."

They left their room and headed down to the elevators where Warrick let Sara go in first before following behind her. He had to restrain himself from proposing to her in an elevator. He just wanted to run away with her and call her his wife but he wanted it to be special. Right now it felt as though he was dreaming; everything was absolutely perfect and every time he saw her smile or heard her laugh he could feel his heart flutter.

And at the present moment Sara Sidle felt like a princess. It had taken her practically thirty-six years to feel this way but she didn't care. She had found the one person most women wait a lifetime to meet. She had met her prince charming and she was going to soak in her bliss for as long as she wanted. She never knew love could do that to someone.

The elevator doors opened and Warrick looked over at Sara with a smile, linking his arm around hers as they stepped out into the hotel lobby. There was a man in the corner dressed in a waiter's uniform and he waved them over, a white towel thrown over his arm.

"Oh wow, Warrick," Sara whispered as they headed into the restaurant connected to the hotel. The carpet was a deep shade of red, almost matching Sara's dress and the walls were a beige color with gold lining around the beams. Every table—very full now with tourists and Vegas residents—was garnished with flowers, wine glasses and utensils of every shape and size. "This is… I've always wanted to come here, this place is so…" she trailed off, looking above them at the large chandelier.

Warrick tried not to grin too, too big as he kept quiet, not wanting to ruin the surprise. Their waiter guided them through the restaurant and Sara became quite confused when she found they were exiting. "Warrick, where are we going?" she asked him.

"You'll see," he smiled at her as they stopped in front of another door. "Do you trust me?" he asked her.

She shot him another one of her signature smiles just like he knew she would. "Of course," she whispered.

"I'm glad," Warrick smiled back at her as he made a motion at the waiter and he opened both of the large china doors in front of them.

"Warrick, what's—_oh my goodness_!" Sara gasped out the rest in pure astonishment as she took in the scene in front of her. There was a small table out on the balcony and two chairs on either side. On the table was a full vase of red roses between two lit candlesticks which illuminated the entire area. There weren't any other people around, she noticed. It wasn't a windy night. There were stars in the sky.

"I sure hope that's a good gasp," Warrick chuckled as he glanced over at her. She jumped into his arms and he held her, just enjoying being there with her.

"Warrick, this is absolutely beautiful," Sara whispered. "How were you able to—"

"Shh, don't worry about that," Warrick whispered back. "I don't want you to worry about anything tonight, Sara. Tonight is all about you and me, okay? Nothing else matters."

At that very moment Sara fell in love with Warrick Brown all over again.

"Let's go sit down," Warrick told her, walking over to her seat and pulling it out for her. She shot him another grateful smile as she sat down and he pushed her closer to the table, joining her in his spot across from her.

"Wine, Madam?" the waiter asked her, holding up a clear bottle with a very intricate design around the label.

"Yes, thank you," Sara told him.

"May I?" Warrick asked the waiter who only nodded and walked off as Warrick took the bottle from his hands and popped the cork, making Sara giggle as it fizzed at the top. "Have I ever told you how much I like your giggle?" he asked her as he carefully poured Sara the first glass.

"You've told me a lot of things," she beamed over at him as he poured a glass for himself before setting the bottle back down on the table.

"And they're all true," Warrick smiled, holding his glass up after he had taken a sip. "I really hope you're having a good time so far."

"Warrick," Sara started, shaking her head as she tried not to laugh. "There's no place I'd rather be. This has all been perfect… this is what I used to dream about when I was a little girl."

"Good," Warrick whispered, reaching across the table with his free hand and searching for hers. She brought it up from her lap and he slowly entwined his fingers with hers. "It may sound corny, but just seeing you smile has made this the best night of my life."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Brown," Sara laughed.

"No, really!" Warrick protested. _Smooth. She thinks you're joking, Warrick. Don't try and take a page from the cheesy cliché romance movie and just speak your mind._ "Sara… I wish I could make what I'm about to say make sense somehow, but… ever since that night all those months ago, I just wanted to see you smile or laugh again, girl. I wanted to do whatever it took to see you happy again. Seeing you happy makes me happy. You have no idea how much it thrills me to see you so happy."

"Warrick…" Sara whispered, giving his hand a little squeeze. "Warrick, you _were_ making me happy…" she told him. "Just by being there with me, you helped more than you can ever imagine. I kept wondering what I had done right to deserve you… you were there with me, morning, day and night at my bedside, with a hot bowl of soup in your hands or there to offer a shoulder to cry on. I've… I've never had that before, Warrick."

"Well that changes now, then," Warrick softly told her, his other hand moving so that it was sandwiching hers between both of his. "From now on, you're never going to have to do anything by yourself ever again. I'm always going to be there with you to help every step of the way."

Warrick wanted to wait to do this until after dinner, but he just couldn't hold it off any longer. Sara watched as he reached into the pocket of his tuxedo and pulled out something that he kept hidden in his fist. She could only watch as he pushed his chair away from the table and kneeled down on his right knee in front of her.

Warrick felt like he was high as a kite as he held the small black box up in his palm for Sara to see. It was the one moment you always dreamed of but never thought would happen. "Sara Sidle…" he started, his voice wavering on pure nervousness and a bit of shyness. "…will you marry me?" he finally asked, opening the box up for her to see.

Sara was frozen in place as she looked at the black box in Warrick's hand to his face, to his face back to the box. Her mind was slapping her in the face and screaming at her to say something, _anything _but she couldn't. For the first time in her life she had been struck speechless. It had to be a fairy-tale. This sort of thing didn't happen to people like her. It happened to people like Cinderella, not Sara Sidle.

Never in her wildest dreams did she think this moment would actually come. She had always been convinced her relationships had been nothing but crap—her first boyfriend in college had slept with at least four other girls. Mr. Ken Fuller, hazel eyes, Delta Airlines bathroom—he had been a stupid bet made by her friends. She had most definitely lost that one.

But then there was Warrick. The relationship she had with him was the only one she had ever experienced where she didn't feel like she was fooling herself to be happy. He always knew just what to say or how to act, he always knew exactly what she needed or wanted. It was if they had been made for each other, destined to—

No, that couldn't be right. Her mother had always told her she would amount to nothing but a slut. She was reminded of that at least six times a day until her thirteenth birthday. Her father in his drunken glory had told her everyday as she left for school that her clothes made her look like the tramp she was and that she could burn in hell just like her damned mother see if he cared it served them right for being ungrateful—

"Sara."

Warrick said her name to free her from her trance. He could sense the disbelief in her eyes and knew what must be going through her mind. But he wasn't fooling her… it wasn't some sort of sick joke, he meant it and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and no one else. No other woman even _compared _to who she was.

"Sara, look at me," Warrick softly told her, gently moving her head so that she was looking at him again. "I'm serious, girl… I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I… I can't imagine trying to spend it with someone else. A life without you would be empty. I don't want emptiness, Sara. I just want to go through life with the woman I love by my side."

"Warrick…" Sara could feel the tears forming in her eyes fast and before she could try and stubbornly wipe them away they were already falling down her face. "Oh Warrick!" she wailed, falling forward and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Warrick practically dropped the ring and the box but he returned the embrace. "I love you too," she cried into his shoulder. "I love you too!"

Warrick cried his hardest not to start crying along with her but at this rate he stood no chance. "Is that a yes?" he laughed.

She pulled away and looked at him through tear-stained eyes. She could feel another lump in her throat rising just from the look he was giving her. She knew she must look like hell, her make-up was running and her hair was ruined but he was still looking at her like she was the most beautiful woman on earth. "Yes," she whispered.

Warrick pulled them both to their feet and gently grabbed her right hand, pulling it in front of him so he could put the ring on her finger. He slid it on with no trouble—it was a perfect fit. The diamonds glittered in the moonlight and the small flames of the candlelight on the table. "Good," he whispered to her. "Because I must say that I'm already very anxious to call you my wife."

They leaned forward and kissed and Sara just wished she could be lost in the sensation for eternity. For the first time she was content with life. She didn't care if anyone saw her and Warrick, actually what she really wanted was to run to the end of the balcony and scream it at the top of her lungs. She wasn't worried about anything, which truly was an accomplishment for her. All that mattered was Warrick, that she was here with Warrick and they loved each other.

When they pulled away for air Warrick looked at her and shot her a smile, still gently rubbing her hands with his thumbs. "That ring looks quite good on you if I do say so myself."

Sara just laughed as he tenderly wiped away her tears with his fingertips while she admired the ring. "It's beautiful, Warrick," she told him, "It fits perfectly… how did you know?"

Warrick couldn't help but chuckle. "I actually asked Cath to fix me a mold so I could get it just right. I took it while you were asleep one night."

Sara giggled. "I bet everyone in the lab had a field day about that."

"I didn't tell her why I needed it," Warrick smiled. "And by the way, I apologize for the cheese factor of my long monologue earlier…"

"Hey," Sara stopped him, raising an eyebrow. "I'm a woman," she whispered, leaning closer so that her face was mere inches from his. "We like cheesy. This is usually the part in the movie where we're fighting over the box of Kleenex."

"If you say so," Warrick grinned, brushing a hand against her cheek. "So would you like to sit down and finish our dinner, which I don't think we ever got to start," he laughed.

"As strange as it may sound I'm actually not hungry anymore…" Sara whispered, nuzzling her nose against his. "I don't want this moment to end…"

"Then that makes two of us," Warrick whispered back, placing a hand on her back as he pulled her close, resting his head just above hers. "That makes two of us, Sara."

For moments, there was just the two of them. And then there was a gunshot.


	16. Your Song

**A/N: Hey guys! Again, I apologize immensely for the lack of updates. Real life just tends to get in the way, and then writer's block can really be a pain in the ass. Thank you all for reading and reviewing this far along, and I hope you guys enjoy this last chapter :) As always, I do not own CSI: or any of its characters and affiliates, and I do not own the lyrics or the song Your Song by Elton John.**

As the shot rang out through the air Sara shrieked and Warrick instinctively pulled her to him in a protective embrace. With an arm wrapped around her shoulders he reached into his pocket with the other and pulled it out—the one thing that had been able to help him sleep at night. The one thing he took with him everywhere he went.

The gun that he couldn't wait to fire at the son of a bitch that had broken the only thing he had ever loved.

The young waiter that had been at their table had his hands over his head in surrender as heavy footsteps approached behind him. He was barely twenty and this had not been in the job description.

"Sorry to break up the little engagement party." His voice was venomous as he walked through the twin china doors with his .9 millimeter pistol in front of him. "But Sara, I believe you and I had a little unfinished business to attend to," Trey sneered evilly at her.

"Shut up, you son of a bitch," Warrick hissed, trying to block Sara's view of Trey and Trey's view of Sara. "You're never laying another hand on her again. Coming back here was the stupidest thing you could've done."

"Oh do be quiet," Trey hushed. "I'll deal with you later." He locked his eyes on Sara's shaking form. "Now just let Sara and I talk… that never hurt anything, did it?"

"Forget it," Warrick spat, keeping the gun held in front of them as a warning. "If you even breathe on her funny you're a dead man. I've been wanting to do this for a _very_ long time."

"Well then that makes two of us," Trey's eyes narrowed as he clicked the hammer of his own pistol. He shot a look over at the scared young waiter cowering in the corner of the balcony, currently using his serving platter as a shield. "You," he pointed to him. "This atmosphere is rather… dull. How about some music?"

"He can't be serious," Sara whispered just softly enough so that Warrick could hear her.

"He's crazy," Warrick muttered.

"Now!" Trey shouted at the waiter when he didn't move. The kid just nodded quickly and got to his feet shakily, heading back into the restaurant. "Now that's service," he smiled over at Warrick and Sara as he returned his attention to the two of them.

The speakers outside the restaurant cracked a little before a soft smooth cello and bass was audible from both.

"I wanted you to hear this song after dinner," Warrick told Sara, trying to avert her attention to something other than the gun pointed at them both. "I had it all planned out… a nice bottle of wine, soft music, dancing…"

_**It's a little bit funny this feeling inside**__**I**_

_**'m not one of those who can easily hide**_

_**I don't have much money but boy if I did**__**I**_

_**'d buy a big house where we both could live**_

"I would've liked that," Sara whispered to him, almost forgetting Trey was there. Slow-dancing with Warrick was all she needed to take her mind off of the currently gun pointed at them.

"When this is over, Sara," Warrick continued, "We can go somewhere away from Vegas just the two of us and try this again."

Sara nodded in agreement, a smile slowly crossing her face. "I'm tired of the flashing lights."

"Me too," Warrick smiled back.

"Um, hello?" Trey asked, waving the gun in front of him, getting annoyed that they were now completely ignoring his presence. "Have you stopped to think that there isn't going to _be_ a next time, Mr. Warrick Brown? By the time this is over your little friends are going to be taking away three bodies."

"What?" Sara whispered in disbelief. Three? Who else could he possibly be planning on killing?

"Sara my dear, surely you don't believe I'm planning on getting out of here alive," Trey chuckled. "Once I've disposed of you both the cops will have no reason not to kill me. That's why I've brought three bullets with me; one for your precious prince charming, one for you my darling, and then one for me."

"You're crazy," Warrick hissed, his grip around Sara tightening as he glared at Trey, keeping his own gun steady in front of them. "You can try all you want but you're going to waste those other two bullets you brought for us. We're not going anywhere."

_**If I was a sculptor, but then again, no**_

_**Or**__** a man who makes potions in a travelling show**_

_**I know it's not much but it's the best I can do**_

_**My gift is my song and this one's for you**_

"You wouldn't risk my bullet traveling faster than yours now Warrick, would you?" Trey asked, slowly directing the barrel of his gun from Warrick to Sara. Warrick tensed. "Go ahead, shoot me," Trey prompted. "I dare you. But just know that if you make one mistake you're going to be covered in Sara's blood—"

"_ENOUGH_!" Warrick shouted when he felt Sara's body resuming to shake again in his arms. "I knew you were pathetic man but this is ridiculous," he hissed at him. "You have to threaten Sara to act tough? Is that how you get off?"

"I would watch what you say to me, Warrick," Trey growled. "I have a very bad temper, as Sara has already learned."

"Then listen to me," Warrick told him. "This is what we're going to do." Looking down at Sara for a moment, he leaned toward her and whispered something into her ear. Sara was reluctant but finally agreed and hesitantly pulled away from their embrace.

"Where is she going?" Trey immediately asked, eyeing the pair suspiciously. "She's not leaving."

"She's not going anywhere," Warrick explained. "She's just going to stand behind me. Then you and I can handle this like men."

"Warrick!" Sara immediately stopped in her tracks. "You didn't--!" He hadn't mentioned that part to her. If he got hurt because of her she would never forgive herself.

"It's okay Sara," Warrick assured her, gently nudging her behind him with his free arm as he kept his other holding the gun at Trey. "Just go."

Sara didn't budge, staring at Warrick with wide, uncertain eyes. "Warrick…"

"Sara, I promise," Warrick soothingly told her. Despite everything that was going on, including the gun being pointed at them, his voice was still cool and calm to her. "It's going to be okay. Just get behind me." It took a minute, but Sara finally complied and stood behind Warrick who blocked her with his own body as a protective shield.

"Trying to be the hero, huh?" Trey asked with a sneer. "It's going to come at a price. Once I'm finished with you everyone here can experience a real man take your woman."

"Warrick—" Sara trembled.

"Just listen to the song Sara, okay?" Warrick whispered to her, his gaze at Trey unwavering. "Don't think about him. Just listen to the song… I wanted this to be our song. I'm sorry it didn't quite work out that way. I'll make it up to you when this over. Remember what I said?"

_**And you can tell everybody this is your song**_

_**It may be quite simple but now that it's done**_

_**I hope you don't mind**__**I hope you don't mind that I put down in words**_

_**How wonderful life is while you're in the world**_

"Yeah," Sara whispered, the uncertainty still there. "But Warrick—"

"Don't worry about it Sara, just listen to the song and this will be over soon," Warrick assured her. Then turning his attention back to Trey, a smirk played on his lips. "What are you going to do now?" he asked him.

Trey cocked the gun in his hand, keeping it steadily on Warrick the entire time as his gaze wavered from the gun being pointed at him, to Warrick's face, to Sara and then back again. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. The police could arrive at any minute now. Time was running out.

So he decided to use the last card he had up his sleeve. He wasn't going to; it was beneath him. But it was the last act of a desperate man, and he was desperate. "Sara," Trey addressed her.

Warrick tried to block Sara's view of Trey and his view of her, but that didn't stop him from talking.

"Come here," Trey told her.

"Who do you think she is?" Warrick scoffed. "She's not an idiot. She's not going to just go over there—" While Warrick was distracted a gunshot rang through the air and Sara as well as several other restaurant patrons screamed as red sprayed her face and her dress. Warrick fell back against the balcony grasping his bloody shoulder with the hand the gun had been positioned in.

"Stop it!" Sara shrieked. "Don't hurt him!" She ripped a piece of material from the bottom of her dress and tore it into long strips with her teeth as she tried to tend to Warrick's wound.

"Sara,don't… worry about me," Warrick winced. "Get behind me!" He had to protect her- that was his only decision. There was no plan B. If he couldn't protect her, then no one could. He wasn't about to let her get hurt again. But the bullet Trey had fired at him had hit his shoulder square-on and blood was seeping through his fingers and Sara's makeshift bandages quickly. The pain was excruciating.

"Sara," Trey addressed her again. He waved her over with his gun, still smoking from his gun. "Come here, or I'll finish him off right now!"

"Sara, no," Warrick tried to tell her. "Don't go over to him, I have my gun," he tried to reassure her. But with his gun-hand pressing against his wound and the fact that he was losing strength altogether, Sara knew that Trey would be faster. She had no choice.

"I'm sorry Warrick," Sara whispered to him. After tying the remaining pieces of the ripped material from her dress around his wound to try and stop blood loss as much as possible, Sara got to her feet, swallowed her nerves and started to walk over to Trey.

"Good girl," Trey smiled.

"Sara, no!" Warrick shouted, trying to reach for her but his attempts were in vain.

_**I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss**_

_**Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross**_

_**But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song**_

_**It's for people like you that keep it turned on**_

Once Sara was in arm's reach Trey grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, inhaling the smell of her perfume now mingled with the coppery fumes of Warrick's blood. "I was much too quick with you last time, Sara," he hissed into her ear. Sara grimaced as she felt his foul breath against her neck but didn't move for fear of him hurting Warrick. "This time I will savor every last moment."

"Let her go you son of a bitch," Warrick growled venomously through clenched teeth. Using his new-found strength – perhaps strength Sara had passed onto him—he braced himself with his free hand and began to pull up his body's deadweight so he could get to his feet. He was slumped over from the pain in his shoulder, but he finally managed to stand up straight.

"Isn't that sweet?" Trey mocked. "Look Sara, he's going to kill himself simply trying to stand up!" he cackled.

"Warrick, please," Sara pleaded with him as she watched him struggle and his face contort into the many different stages of pain. "Don't hurt yourself… I'm not worth it."

"But that's the thing, Sara," a small smile played on Warrick's lips. "You _are _worth it. This is what guys do – they protect the woman they love. I'm not just going to stand around and watch this bastard lay his hands on you."

"Too bad," Trey clicked his tongue. "Because you're not going to be around that long anyways." Pointing his gun at Warrick he clicked the hammer and his finger began to squeeze the trigger…

"NO!" Sara shouted.

_**So excuse me forgetting but these things I do**__**Y**_

_**ou see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue**_

_**Anyway the thing is what I really mean**_

_**Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen**_

Another gunshot rang through the air, but there were no cries of pain accompanying it. Sara was holding onto Trey's arm that was now pointing at the sky and Warrick realized that she had knocked off his aim.

"You bitch," Trey hissed at her. In one clean swipe he whacked her across the face with the butt of his gun sending her sprawling with a groan and she landed at Warrick's feet.

"Sara?" Warrick whispered, kneeling down beside her. He helped her to her feet and rubbed the skin on her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sara whispered, ignoring the small trail of blood making its way down her cheek. "Are you?"

"I am now," Warrick whispered back, "You saved my life, girl."

"You saved mine," Sara whispered. "It's what women do for the men they love."

"That's it!" Trey shouted, bringing them back to reality. "Sara, I was going to let you live a little longer but you've finally blown my last fuse. Now you both die!" Sara and Warrick could both tell he was hysterical now and more desperate than ever; there were sirens audible in the distance.

"I don't think so," Sara said. Her voice was strangely calm. "Your little plan just back-fired."

"Oh yeah?" Trey sneered. He squeezed the trigger on his gun but heard nothing but a click! He growled angrily and started pulling it over and over again, but each time there was just a click.

Warrick was confused but Sara simply held up the hammer of the gun in her now blood-stained palm. Warrick realized now that when she had shoved his hand away she had managed to dismantle it from the gun, but had gotten a nasty cut in the process.

"How the hell did you…" Trey's eyes were wide in disbelief.

"I learned a thing or two in weaponless defense training," Sara spat. Looking over at the balcony, an idea crossed her mind.

"Give that to me," Trey hissed, holding his hand out.

"I don't think so," Sara replied. Walking over to the balcony she held the small piece over 50 feet of pure air and Vegas pavement.

"No, no, no--!" Trey shouted. But it was too late and Sara had already dropped it.

Everything next happened so fast no eye-witness could have told you the story and gotten it completely right. In his fury Trey had grabbed a steak knife from off the dining table and came at both Warrick and Sara, but Warrick remembered the gun in his hand and a single shot rang through the air as they watched Trey fall to the ground, blood pouring from the wound in his chest.

"H… How," Trey gasped, staring up at Sara in disbelief. "…did…"

"Haven't you ever seen the movies?" Sara asked, walking back over to Warrick whose hands were shaking but he composed himself when he saw that Sara was unharmed and wrapped both arms around her, letting his gun drop to the blood-stained granite tile. "The good guys always win."

Just then Brass and the entire Las Vegas Police Department appeared in the doorway of the balcony, guns drawn. "What the hell happened here?" Brass asked.

_**And you can tell everybody this is your song**_

_**It may be quite simple but now that it's done**_

_**I hope you don't mind**__**I hope you don't mind that I put down in words**_

_**How wonderful life is while you're in the world**_

"Take this guy away, Brass," Warrick simply said, motioning down to the struggling Trey on the ground. Before Brass could start asking questions, he looked down at Sara. She looked up at him and smiled. "Are you okay?" he whispered to her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

She nodded. "You need to get your shoulder checked out," she told him. "Let's get out of here."

"I'm all for that," Warrick told her with a small smile. He had actually forgotten about the pain in his shoulder; it felt numb now. "Brass?" he asked the other man.

"Medics are outside," Brass told him. "I'm really glad you guys are okay, 'Rick. Go get checked up; the medics are just downstairs."

"Thanks Jim," Warrick sincerely told him as he and Sara stepped over broken glass and shell casings and made their way out of the dining room downstairs to the medics.

_**I hope you don't mind**_

_**I hope you don't mind that I put down in words**_

_**How**__** wonderful life is while you're in the world**_

"Warrick?" Sara asked, stopping when they were just outside the dining room and the soft music stopped coming from the speakers.

"What is it, Sara?" Warrick asked.

"This _is_ our song," Sara smiled brightly at him. "I like it."

"No Sara," Warrick chuckled. "It's Your Song," he teased her.

_**I hope you don't mind**__**…**_

_**I hope you don't mind that I put down in words**__**…**_

_**How wonderful life is while you're in the world**__**…**_

**The End**

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing :)**


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